Mindleak
by laverick.thatcher
Summary: When the Dursleys abandon Harry in a forest, what was previously a clever trick - making the spiders in his cupboard dance - now becomes a tool for survival. The Avada Kedavra didn't only leave a scar, it tore part of his mind free of his body itself. Though Harry can manipulate the smaller creatures around him, will he be changed in turn? BWL!Neville, eventual MOD!Harry
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Harry was in the library. The book he picked for today was the first in its series, the story of an apprentice knight who longed to be a protector of the Queen. His inner mind was engrossed in the adventure. His outer mind was scanning his surroundings.

Even though Dudley and his gang tended to avoid the library, Harry had a feeling that after escaping their torment for so many lunches, the group was bound to catch him. He'd kept watch all lunch, as attentive on the entrance as he was on his book. He wasn't splitting his attention. If anything, it was like he had two attentions, each free to do as they wish.

Still, periodically, he'd lift his eyes to make sure he was still alone in his nook. Harry didn't want a repeat of the time when he was trying to steal a cookie from the pantry, focused on the way to the bedrooms upstairs only to get caught out by Aunt Petunia who'd been returning from a late lunch at a neighbour's. It was like he could only sense a limited range around him, but even then, it was extra security that allowed him to escape into the land of princesses and noble deeds.

The bell for the end of lunch rang, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. His cousin hadn't bothered him this time, but even as he returned the book to its place, Harry knew he'd had to find another spot to hide the next day. His cousin wasn't stupid, however poorly he did at class. Dudley simply didn't care about school work. What he did care about… well, Harry supposed it was recognition. Recognition he got mainly by picking on younger kids. And Harry.

"Are you sure you don't want to take a book home with you?" The librarian asked.

Harry looked up at her. The woman was young-ish, maybe Aunt Petunia's age but the smile she offered quickly shook that comparison away.

"No thanks," Harry said. "I can come back tomorrow."

He wasn't coming back tomorrow. Instead, he'd tell Rosie and Bailey and a handful of others of the cool new book he'd discovered in the library. They'd tell his cousin, or his cousin would shake it out of them, and then tomorrow lunch he'd hide out in the bathroom or the grassy bit behind the gym.

* * *

The rest of the day passed without a hitch, though Uncle Vernon was in a bit of a mood when he arrived back home. Harry quickly found his way to his cupboard before the man found an excuse to shout at him.

His cupboard was dark, the single light bulb broken for months. It didn't matter. He could feel every ridge of the wood panelling, was able to right without looking the toy soldier that had fallen from its place, and knew without a doubt that there were exactly twelve little spiders nesting in the cricks and the corners. He left the spiders alone, instead, settling back with his hands behind his head, and let both his attentions drift.

When he slept, it was with one eye open. Or so it felt. He was aware of his cupboard, the stillness of the house, but it was a vague awareness, as if he was seeing through woven glass. Not that it was sight.

Time passed differently. With the world so still, his body so still, with his outer mind best focused on the broad brush strokes instead of the minutiae, the eight hours he slept merged together until pink dawn dredged through the cracks of his cupboard door.

Harry woke with a groan. It was Saturday. Saturday meant no school. No school meant staying home. He lay around a little longer before getting up and starting breakfast.

Uncle Vernon came downstairs first, dressed in his striped night clothes, hair a mess. Harry placed a plate of eggs and bacon on the table as his uncle settled in, folding open the newspaper.

From upstairs, his cousin's voice, strangely excited, accompanied the thumping of the floor boards as Dudley ran down the stairs.

Another plate for the table. There was still plenty of food left in the pan. His Aunt Petunia wouldn't eat much, and neither did Harry, but both Vernon and Dudley would be due seconds.

"We're going on a walk today," Vernon said behind his newspaper.

The revelation didn't seem to surprise Aunt Petunia, though the Dursleys hadn't once 'gone for a walk' that Harry remembered.

"But I said I'd go over to Pierce's today," Dudley whined. "He got this new game I've been wanting to-"

"Quiet boy. We'll get you the game if you're good, but today we're going on a walk."

Harry tuned the discussion out as he cleared the plates, trying not to belay his giddiness. With the Dursleys gone for the day, he'd have the house all to himself.

That giddiness disappeared when Aunt Petunia shouted for him to hurry up and get in the car.

Harry, still with soap suds on his hands from the dishes, poked his head out the door. Sure enough, the Dursleys were waiting, Vernon impatiently waving his meaty fist at him.

"Come on boy, we haven't got all day."

Harry wiped his hands on his trousers, didn't even go back to get one of Dudley's cast-off jumpers before he ducked under Petunia's tight-lipped grimace and climbed into the car.

Dudley was on the phone for the entire ride, and Harry found himself more or less left alone to stare out the window. Little Winging drifted away into the expanse of farmland within an hour, then bush. A marker for a picnic area flew by on the side of the road, and there had been few other indicators of civilisation since. Vernon pulled off into a side road, gravel, which the car didn't seem to handle well, rolling onwards a little longer before stopping by wooden bench next to a rusted out husk of a bathroom.

"There was supposed to be a track somewhere here," Vernon mumbled, sticking his head out of the car window. "Boy, get out and see if you can spot it."

And then Harry knew exactly what was happening.

"Are you going to leave me here?" The words were faint. He hadn't even wanted to say them.

Aunt Petunia stayed silent in the front seat, though her flinch was more than telling.

"Boy-"

"You can't do that! There's laws against abandoning people in the woods. The police would get involved. You'd get into trouble!"

"Get out of the car boy, don't make me say it again."

Dudley was silent now, his face a blotchy pale of shock. Harry thought he should have been grinning, insufferable, but no.

"We saw them," Petunia said, her first words since leaving the house. "What you were doing."

Harry gaped. "What?"

"You were doing m- ma-. You were doing something to the spiders, to make them move. It was unnatural, just like her. I don't know what we expected." She shook her head. "No. You have to go. I'll not have this unnaturalness soiling my house, I'll not have you near my Dudley."

Harry shrunk back in his seat. She'd seen him? How? When? He knew there was something different about him, and that the Dursleys were creatures that hated that. He thought he'd kept his secrets secret.

"Just leave. There's a bag in the trunk. Go get it. Find somewhere else to live. Don't try to find us. We're moving away."

She shuddered, and that single act drove Harry to move. He was numb, his hands working without intention as he let himself out of the car. He let the door swing shut. Inside, Dudley's voice, for once timid, without reply from his parents.

As his Aunt said, there was a bag. Inside, some water, some bread. No money. The car shifted into reverse as he rifled through the bag. A spike of hate, only now rising at the thought that the Dursleys, even as they were going to abandon him in the woods, were too cheap to leave him with some money.

Momentarily blinded by the headlights, Harry made sure to twist his face in his best scowl. Was it his imagination or did their retreat speed up? He clenched the bag tight, shaking, wanting to throw it on the ground, but not foolish enough to abandon the scant help he'd been left.

His mouth was dry. Harry tried to slow his breathing, tried to keep his head clear. He'd read stories where people survived by themselves in the woods. But alone, already getting cold, and still in disbelief, the words didn't come to him. Both of his minds were in disarray.

He stood there for a little longer. Perhaps they were going to come back? Maybe this was all a trick, just to scare him into behaving. It was working that was for sure. Harry knew that if the Dursley's car appeared down that gravel road to retrieve him, he'd throw himself willingly into servitude.

But the Dursley didn't come back. No cars came. When the shadows grew longer, and Harry was full on shivering in his shirt, he took a deep breath and swung the bag onto his back.

First things first. He checked the bathroom. The thing stunk, but in an old, dried way that meant it wasn't often used. He sensed several insects who made the place home, a moth and a handful of other critters. He left them, not sure what use they'd be.

There was a metal sign attached to the door for emergency numbers, but no phone. He memorised the digits just in case. No toilet paper. He guess he couldn't just camp out here hoping for the station to be serviced.

That meant he was in a dilemma. Vernon had driven for quite a long time. Hours. Harry didn't know how fast he'd be able to walk, but he was sure he couldn't get to anywhere useful before the sun set. He bit his lip, turning to the trees.

There weren't anything too dangerous out there, right? He wasn't in Africa, or Australia. He had his secrets. He'd be somewhat aware when he slept, with his outer mind. And the other secret…

Already he could feel them. The forest was teeming with small minds. Insects, and bugs, in the ground, in the trees, and in the air. Minds that he could gather, maybe use to help him through the night.

Harry made a face. Maybe he'd be forced to eat them.

Then, with another glance down the gravel path, just checking, he set off to find a nice tree to take shelter in for the night.

That was easier said than done, with his short, ten year old limbs reaching short of even the lowest branch, Harry resigned himself to a small hollow in the roots. He drew out a handful of crawlers, centipedes and beetles and the like, set them around the perimeter. An altogether unimpressive guard, but it made him feel more secure as the sun set.

Harry hugged his bag close, trying to keep as much heat to his body as he could. Then, with his outer awareness buzzing, feeling the trunk, the leaves and branches at his feet, his insect helpers, and the distant croaking of frogs, Harry let his inner mind drift, and fall asleep.

His sleep was restless, hovering on the edge of waking, especially when an unexpected noise or visitor entered his space. A small, furry body, a raccoon, sniffed around the base of Harry's shelter before disappearing. A bird drifted down to peck at the roots.

It started to rain. What started as a thin drizzle that his outer mind ignored soon became thick, fat droplets that threatened to overcome the scant shelter of the tree roots. Harry shifted. Still tired, he kept his eyes closed as he used his senses to guide him through the forest, stepping over roots, ducking leaves and searched for a better spot to rest. The insects capable of braving the weather came with him, and he gathered several more. A timid defence, with small fangs and claws, but valuable nonetheless in higher numbers.

A large tree, fallen against an outcrop of land offered a more sturdy ledge against the rain. There, Harry leaned back, and allowed his body to settle back into sleep. All the while, some part of his attention remained, guarding, keeping his insects close.

That night, Harry felt more in-tune with his outer mind than ever. The feeling lasted until the next morning, when he was more aware of the dew glistening on the undergrowth than the crick in his neck. His mind was cast broader than usual, scouting the area rather than lingering on the sensations of his body.

It was only when the sun was high in the sky that he realised the foolishness in letting himself drift. The trees were thick around him. He hadn't remembered which way he came and everything looked the same.

He'd gotten out of the rain, alright, but now he was totally lost.

Harry looked around. He had a complete coterie of insects. Flies, moths, beetles, cockroaches, spiders. There were even a few frogs. He gathered them together, as easily as he'd close his fist, and the clumped up, never minding that there were predators and prey mixed in with the lot. Harry knew he could command the spiders in his cupboard, knew that it was strange, but only now, seeing how he formed a ball of insects did he realise how absolutely crazy it all was.

Maybe the Dursleys were right. They'd always said he was a freak. Maybe he deserved to be left out in the forest. Was he even human?

Harry sniffed, then shook his head. He relinquished control over his night-time guardians and turned away as in a frenzy, they dissipated to their own little nooks. But not before some had been eaten by others.

He needed to find his way back to the rusted old bathroom. With that single thought in mind, Harry started to walk. He retraced his steps as best as he could. At times, he thought he'd recognise a tree, or a strange shape of a rock. But as he walked, he felt the rising fear that maybe he'd never be able to find his way. Maybe he'd be stuck here, die here as the ants crawled over his body.

Would he be aware as he died, like he was aware when he slept?

That thought, haunting him through the day, urged him onwards. Onwards until the sun sank again, and he was still no better off than he had been that morning. Worse still, his stomach had been rumbling for hours.

Harry broke out the bread that the Dursleys had left him. It was dry, white, and entirely unfulfilling. He went through a quarter of the loaf before he could stop himself. Then, fed for the time, he found another spot for the night and resigned himself to once more gathering his insects and keeping guard.

It didn't rain this time, but as the second day dawned, Harry knew he had to find some way of feeding himself. The thought of eating insects remained with him. A last resort, he promised himself, if he couldn't find berries or fruit or something else he recognised.

At least, he thought, it was easier spotting berries with his outer awareness. As soon as he stepped within range, he'd become aware of them. It wasn't long before he came along a smattering of berry bushes, bearing clusters of small, black berries that he thought he recognised from the grocery shops.

The first bite told him his recollection was wrong. He spat the thing out, wiping bitter juices off his chin and hoped it wasn't poisonous. His second haul proved better. Strawberries he recognised, and the small handful he picked were tasteless but safe. Mushrooms he was more wary of. He knew the basics, to never touch the red ones, or the spotted ones, but was hesitant to risk it. Instead, late in the afternoon, he came across wild carrots, barely the length of his finger but decidedly non-poisonous. He ate three as he found them, brushing the soil off as well as he could, and kept some for the next day.

When night fell, he again gathered his insects. The ritual, almost a routine, provided some comfort to his situation. He'd managed alright today. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as he thought.

Of course, he was wrong. His outer awareness warned him just in time. The twitch of a tail, a hiss. Harry stumbled, just barely avoiding the snake, caught his balance and sidestepped-

He saw it, too late.

-onto the eggs.

"No! My babies!"

Harry took in a sharp breath. Without intending to, he summoned a handful of insects around him before extracting himself from the broken eggs. He banished them just as quick.

"Hello?" He scanned around, keeping some of his awareness on the snake, but searching the forest for the speaker. A woman? Was she lost too? "Hello? Please, I'm lost. Could you help me?"

"Get away. Get away from them. My babies. No, my babies."

The snake was poking around the egg shells. Harry glanced down at it. No, that was ridiculous.

He looked back up, trying again. "Hello? Is anyone there? I'm lost!"

"It's making such a noise. I should chase it away. Bite it. No, it's too big. Dangerous."

Harry gulped, looking down again at the snake. Maybe the berries he'd eaten were dangerous after all. Was he hallucinating?

"A speaking snake?" He asked himself.

No sooner had the words left his mouth, the snake stilled, head flicking towards him, tongue darting out.

"It speaks?"

There was no doubt about it now. The snake was talking. There was a talking snake.

"You killed my babies!"

An angry, talking snake!

"I'm- I'm sorry," Harry said. "I didn't mean to. I didn't want to step on you and… It was an accident, I swear."

He had a moment of disbelief, where his head spun at the thought of what was happening, before the moment passed and the snake replied.

"Didn't mean to? Accident? What are you going to do to make this right?"

The snake lifted its head and Harry took several steps back when its height reached his shin. It wasn't a big snake, maybe half a meter long, but he was ten and didn't have fangs of his own.

"I… I don't know. I don't have very much. I'm really, really sorry." A thought struck him. "Do you eat bugs? I could bring you lots of bugs."

"You think bugs will make up for my clutch? How dare-"

"Every day! I'll make sure you're never hungry again!"

The snake paused. It looked back at the broken eggs, then at Harry, who was cursing himself.

What was he doing? He could hardly take care of himself, let alone a snake?

"That… would be suitable repayment."

"Oh. Really? Uhh."

"Don't say you mean to go back on your word so soon."

"No! I mean, I'll do as I say. And I really am sorry about your eggs."

The snake shook her head. Her? Harry assumed it was a her, but now that he thought of it, the voice didn't carry much feminine inflection. It was just… snakeish. Strange he couldn't hear the slight hiss before. He didn't stray too long on questioning how exactly he was understanding the snake, or how the snake was understanding him. It was just another part of the strangeness of his life.

"They are no matter. What's lost is gone."

Harry nodded. There was sense in that. Practicality was especially valued in the wild, he thought. In return, he called up a trio of crickets who'd been hiding under some dried foliage and hopped them towards his new… companion?

The snake ducked its head, tongue flickering out.

"Strange." It sent a glance at Harry. "Perhaps it would be good to have you around, if you bring delicacies like these in troves."

With a snap, it snatched the closest cricket. Harry watched with stark fascination, slightly uncomfortable. While the connection between him and the insects he controlled usually ran one way, he thought he sensed a sort of primal terror for a fleeting second as the snake lunged. He shivered. It didn't seem fair, somehow, to force something to stay still as it was eaten.

But it was just a cricket, Harry reminded himself. He'd eaten meat from animals far more complex and intelligent than a cricket. Still, he was thankful the snake seemed satisfied with a single meal. He made sure the other two crickets were far away before he set them free.

"Do you have a name?" Harry asked. "And are you male or female?"

"I am female," the snake said, confirming Harry's suspicion. "And no, I have no name. And you? You speak, but are not snake. I cannot tell from your scent your sex."

"I'm human. A human boy. My name is Harry. And I suppose that means you don't usually talk to people?"

Great, Harry thought. So it wasn't the snake who was weird, it was him.

"I do not talk to many things. Perhaps if I had, more would talk back."

Harry shrugged. It wasn't like he was the resident expert on snake-talk. He squatted down, taking a closer look at the snake. She was brown, rather unremarkable but she blended in well with the forest floor. That was partly why he'd had so much trouble spotting her in the first place.

"I'm going to be moving around a lot," he said. "You could come with me if you like."

"That would be acceptable."

"Are you going to bite me?"

"Not if you continue on your repayment. More of those delicacies would not be amiss."

Harry sucked in his cheek before holding out a hand. "Alright then. You can ride in my pocket."

The snake climbed on, wrapping around his fingers with more confidence than he had. Harry raised his hand so they were eye-level.

"Do you mind if I name you?"

"What would be the point in that?"

Harry paused. "No real point, I guess, but I've got a name and it would feel strange if you didn't."

The snake made a sound comparable to a human scoff. "Such strange creatures you are. Strange but warm. If you feel the need to refer to me by a particular name, go ahead. I may or may not answer."

Harry snorted in amusement despite himself. "I'll ask you first, of course." It would be rude otherwise, calling people names they didn't want. "I'll give it some thought."

The snake bobbed her head away from Harry. He turned to follow her gaze.

"Can trees talk?"

"No, I don't think so," Harry said.

"You haven't tried, have you? How can you know if trees talk or not if you haven't tried? Hello tree."

Harry grinned, amused.

The offer for the snake to rest in his pocket went unrealised. She seemed more than comfortable around his wrist, going by her quiet murmuring about his warmth. The company, even when the snake was silent, was a strange feeling, and Harry found himself more relaxed than he had been in the last few days.

Walking on, he couldn't help but think that maybe the Dursleys had done him a favour. If nothing else came out of this whole mess, he'd have made a new companion, if not friend.

* * *

 **AN: Hello, this is my first story on this site. I hope it's not too confusing.**

 **The inspiration for Harry's powers come from a web serial, Worm. It's a great read and has all sorts of really well thought out superpowers.**

 **Anyway, Harry can control insects now, and has a second sense that extends around him in a short radius. It allows him to feel things but not really see. The idea was that a part of his mind is leaking out into the world. What this means will be explored more later.**

 **Hopefully this first chap has been interesting. What should Harry call the snake? Requests will be considered! Anyway, if you enjoyed, please leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **L. Thatcher**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Harry counted the days he'd been in the forest and sucked in a breath when all ten fingers weren't enough. Time had passed faster in the company of his snake, Sy, than he could have imagined. That first night, he didn't think he'd survive a week, let alone two. Two weeks. That's half a month. Harry struggled to wrap his mind around the thought.

"You stopped for a reason?" Sy's hiss came from his wrist.

Harry made a hum as he resumed, patching a hole he'd made in his back pack with some tough fibre.

"Just thinking."

"Thinking about what's for eating?"

Harry shook his head. He supposed that was why the time went by so quickly. When food was scarce, it was always on his minds. His outer mind searched for fruits and berries and nuts, and his inner mind planning, recalling the best places to forage, and trying to keep calm. The goal had always been to last until the next meal.

Now, two weeks in to this whole surviving business, he'd found he was doing alright. Not brilliantly, but alright. He had a small stockpile of food, and had found a stream which had a relatively luxurious amount of fish and crustaceans. He hadn't managed to find any hint of human civilisation, however, though he hadn't made much headway into trying to get out of the forest. Harry didn't want to set out in any random direction and risk losing the prime foraging grounds he'd found.

There was more to do, in any case, and Sy was right. Thinking helped with getting things done, but only if he actually did them afterwards. Like sewing shut his pack.

The weather had been patchy as of late, with frequent showers that sent Sy periods of moodiness and silence. It felt like Harry's clothes were constantly damp, and the fabric was rough on his skin. He was airing out his shirt at the moment, though in truth the garment would've been better served with a nice round in the washing machine. True grime and grit held onto a moisture of their own that the sun behind the clouds couldn't conquer.

"All this fussing over nothing. You should just find a nice nest and stay there. Cultivate your territory, find a mate and hatch a healthy clutch of younglings."

"I'm not a snake, Sy. I don't hatch anything," Harry mumbled.

"I didn't say anything about being a snake. I was talking about nests and territories. You wandering all over this forest isn't doing anyone any good, and I'm sick of being carried all day."

Harry tugged on the sides of his bag, nodding when he saw it held. He packed everything back in, put his shirt on, and brought Sy up to his face.

"I'm not going to live my whole life here, Sy. I need to get back to the people, back to houses and roads and shops and electricity. And if you don't want to be carried, then you can make your way on ground."

The snake was silent for a moment. Harry took that to be her sulking. With no further complaints, he shrugged on his backpack and started off.

He did his best to keep track of direction. A trick he picked up during his first week helped immensely. Different areas of the forest were host to different creatures. He could tell, vaguely, the difference between a fly and an earthworm. There was just something innately different about the feel of them. The stream was host to larva and shrimp more than beetles, say. The trick helped, it was another tool to navigate by.

A second trick was suggested by Sy, after Harry explained his powers over her meal creatures.

"Where do you find them?" she had asked.

"Anywhere really. I can feel them once I get close enough, then get control."

"And once you release them? They just go back to their nest?"

Harry shrugged. "I suppose they do. I hadn't much thought about that." Yet even as Sy raised the point, an idea started to form.

Before he set out in the morning, Harry made sure he brought with him a fly or a moth. He'd keep it close the whole day, and if he'd need to return to the camp, follow it back. There were some insects that worked better for this, while others were content with the new location, or was resigned to it.

Harry rubbed the tip of Sy's nose at the memory. It was a clever idea, and he'd never have thought of it if not for his companion.

Perhaps she was onto something when she suggested the whole nest thing. A base would be kind of nice. Somewhere safe, where he'd be able to return in a hitch.

But no, he'd meant what he said. He wanted to get back to humanity. If not to the Dursleys, then somewhere else. Humans weren't supposed to just gallivant around in the woods. He was probably lucky he was even alive at this point.

So he walked. He walked until his toes were aching from hitting the front of his ill-fitting shoes, until the backpack felt like it held a ton of bricks instead of two half-filled water bottles, until his eyes threatened to drift shut.

The problem with having his outer mind, Harry thought, was that he wasn't reliant on the sun any more. He could close his eyes, if he want, and still stay on his feet, feeling every little bump in all direction within a couple meters. It meant he could push himself for hours after the sun had set, and that was what he did.

Determined to make some headway in finding an out to the forest, Harry kept up the gruelling routine for several days. Wake at dawn, gather a guide insect in case he wanted to back track, and walk through into the night, gathering whatever food he could on the way. He tried to keep west, guided by nothing more than a faint memory of the position of the sun in the wind shield when the Dursleys drove him there. He couldn't say for sure he wasn't merely going deeper into the forest.

Then he took ill. He woke hot, sweating and feverish, and Sy was there, looking worriedly into his eyes. Harry had rolled over, nearly crushing her, and curled up into a ball. He was hot and cold at the same time, and the damned moisture wasn't helping one bit.

He remembered some quiet words, before he fell back into troubled sleep. He woke again, finding the day had gone by without him, to the sight of a dead rat, freshly killed.

"You should eat up. You've been pushing yourself too much, fleeing needlessly from something invisible. You say you wish to be back with your own kind, though the method makes me think you'll rather turn yourself into feed for the insects you control. Do not be so hasty to throw yourself away when you can provide me with meals for eternity."

Harry murmured something he hoped was encouraging. "I'm not going to die," he tried to say, but his throat was dry and unyielding. He did manage to push the rat closer to Sy. However ill he was, Harry knew that downing a rat would only make things worse.

The days blurred into one another. Harry remembered only feeling horrendous, and strangely guilty, as if dying would be a grievance onto Sy.

"I'm sorry I broke your eggs," he said, and meant it. He thought he meant it all the times before, but now, after having Sy by his side for so long, he knew her as well as any human in his life. He couldn't imagine accidentally killing someone's babies.

"You've got your promise."

And that was that. Forgiveness, practicality. Harry struggled through his illness in part due to his debt to Sy, or at least that was what he believed.

When the fever lessened, and Harry woke without the heavy feeling in his chest, he called several insects over for Sy to munch on before he sat back on his heels and seriously considered her talk about a nest. His illness had brought into stark relief the fact that the forest wasn't his home. It wasn't his home but he could make it his home. He wouldn't be stuck outside, vulnerable for who knows how long. Better to find some place and make it his own.

Sy had talked about territories. Harry wasn't sure he'd go that far, but he thought back to the stream with the walnut trees on the banks, and it settled on his mind like hot broth in his stomach.

That settled it. Sy was right. He had the perfect spot for a nest and he had chosen to blindly wander through the forest. Getting back to civilisation would have to wait. At least until he'd gotten his feet under him.

Sy didn't say a word when Harry picked up his things and retraced his steps to the stream. He knew, though, from the tilt of her head, that there was an 'I told you so' just barely restrained.

He shrugged. She'd be right if she called him out on it. But the only words that came were suggestions about how to create a comfy nest, and how to threaten away competitors.

"Material is of the utmost importance. It can take days to find the perfect filler. Soft, yet strong, not liable to break or be soaked through from the rain. Preferably something that retains heat, now that I think about it."

Harry sniffed as Sy listed her idea for a perfect nest lining. "I didn't realise snakes were so picky. Did you really look out for something that would… retain heat?" Harry hadn't thought snakes were that aware of physics and what not.

"I… suppose I must have. It does seem like a very good idea." There was more hesitance than Harry expected, with the matter-of-fact way Sy had been talking before.

He shrugged. It doesn't matter. Strange as it sounded, he couldn't afford to be as picky as Sy, who'd only need a sliver of the appropriate material. A human sized nest, even for a boy, was bound to be much larger. He'll make do with dried leaves or mulch. The most important thing would be actually digging out space in the first place.

The banks of the stream were raised high above the water level. Perhaps in the past this had been a river instead. Sand and gravelly pebbles lined the shores, and the roots of walnut trees gave the banks structure, so that Harry could conceivably dig out areas of soil and make a space for himself. That was what he set out to do, armed with a sizeable branch and unenthusiastic encouragement from Sy.

"It's too close to the water. You wouldn't like it if you woke up drowning."

Harry cast a doubtful eye over the stream. He could wade across it and the water was mild, running calm over polished stone. A hazard for a snake Sy's size, perhaps, but not him.

"Besides, it'll be chilly."

Ah, so that was the reason.

"Don't worry, I'll keep you warm, Sy. I'm good at retaining heat as well, if you were wondering." He rolled his eyes, and continued to dig. It was hard going, with the first day yielding little progress. That was good, in a way. It meant his little nest wouldn't just collapse on him, that he wouldn't have to watch every movement while inside.

Construction, if such a term could be used for digging a hole in some dirt, took several more days. During this time, Harry lived off clams and shrimp from the stream. He found he could sense and control these creatures as easily as he did the land insects.

He offered a snail to Sy, who turned her nose up at it.

"What a strange, slimy thing. Did you dig this up from the mud?"

Harry chuckled and set the snail back where he found it. "So more crickets tonight?"

"Please. They have a most delectable crunch."

* * *

Time passed. Harry moved into his nest when it was large enough, only to find he needed a door to keep the breeze out. Then it was fishing poles and a source of bait, then expansions to include storage rooms, and an alternate water supply for easy access for his carrot plantation. Soon, the weather had changed, Sy had grown much larger under his care, and Harry found himself delayed several months in his return to society.

By this point, he didn't much care. He was comfortable in his nest, Sy was an agreeable companion, and he faced no immediate danger from the denizens of the forest. There was no creature larger than him, and those troubling ones like badgers and skunks he'd managed to fend off. His territory was his own.

Harry was doing a spot of fishing late one afternoon, rod baited with a nice juicy worm when he heard it.

A squawk, then flapping of wings. He only had the time to drop the pole and protect his face before a ball of feathers smashed into him.

Harry stumbled back, instinctively reaching up to catch the bird, and hissed in pain when he grasped hold of talons. It was an owl. A very irate owl.

"Let me at it," Sy hissed, rearing up. The owl took one look, squawked, and tried to take off. Wings brushed against his cheek, a beak came dangerously close to his eye, but the bird only managed to knock itself off balance and tumble to the ground.

In its scrambling, Harry spotted a scrap of something tied to its leg.

"Wait a sec, Sy."

The snake hissed, displeased, and settled to coiling herself around Harry's feet. Sy had grown too large to wrap on his wrist. Large enough she fancied she could take on a fully grown owl. Harry would have stopped her even if he hadn't seen the message on the owl's legs.

How strange. He'd heard of messenger pigeons before, but owls? Besides, weren't they supposed to be nocturnal? And that was definitely paper tied to its legs. Paper meant people. Harry reached out for it, but drew back as the owl opened its sharp beak in a warning.

Was the thing domesticated or not?

He settled back, watching as the owl tried to launch itself into the air. There was something wrong with a wing, he realised. The feathers were all messed up, sticking in odd directions. It was limping too, favouring the non-lettered leg. Every so often, it would look back at Harry, giving a warning squawk as if to ward off the pesky human watching its plight.

Harry merely settled back, retrieved his fishing rod. The owl wasn't going anywhere, not with a busted wing and leg. If it didn't want to let him at the message now, Harry was content to wait. Perhaps a little bribe of fresh fish would do the trick.

As he expected, the owl tired itself out in a few minutes, and flopped to rest. Harry neared, cautious, and dropped a fresh fish in front of it.

"Come on, eat up. I'll try to help as much as I can, but you gotta give some back in return. I want to see the message."

The owl studied Harry a moment longer, still in a way that only predator birds could be. Then it held out its leg.

Harry blinked. He hadn't really thought that would work. He'd been expecting to wrestle for that letter. He narrowed his eyes. He couldn't speak to owls now too, could he? It didn't look like it. The bird wasn't answering back.

He reached out, this time without being threatened, and untied the letter. The paper was thick, textured, and rolled up. A brilliant green ink scratched out a few simple sentences.

 _Hi Susan, Gran rigged up this letter as a portkey for Saturday. Just hold onto it around six, it'll activate then. Neville._

Sy slithered over for a look. Harry pulled her up around her shoulders.

"What is it?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. Some sort of code? It's written from someone named Neville, for someone named Susan. That's about all I could make-"

An unexpected squawk and Harry raised his eyebrows as he found the owl snuggling up against his feet. It was awfully chummy for an owl that wanted nothing to do with Harry moments before.

"Oh, are you cold? I could-"

Then a giant tug at his navel, a brief flash of nausea and the impression of incredible speed. Harry fell flat on his face. Sy was hissing, wordlessly in alarm. What the deck had happened?

"What? Who are you? Where's Susan?"

Harry looked up. In front of him, not two meters away, was a human. Another human. A boy, his age, dressed in a thick woollen coat, pointing what looked like a stick at him.

Harry gaped. Then his gaze trailed out behind the boy. The forest was gone. The stream was gone. His nest, his place of safety, was gone. Instead, a great house loomed, rimmed with hedges and a smattering of trees. In front of him was a painted gazebo, enshrouded by great towering firs. A road. A road! And in the distance, more houses.

Harry felt like he couldn't breathe. Sy was hissing in his ear, but he couldn't make out the words.

The boy's face in front of him turned into concern as he stepped closer, the stick lowering.

"Hey, you alright?"

Harry shook his head, but that was all he could do. The sky, unobstructed by leaves looked down at him. How had he ended up on the ground? There was too much open space. Too much. Too much! He should have let Sy at that blasted owl.

And then he sank into darkness.

* * *

 **AN: Sorry if the time skip was a bit abrupt. I couldn't have Harry spend all his time in the forest, could I? I hope you liked the transition to the wizarding society. Harry's definitely in for a bit of a surprise. How Neville being the BWL and Harry still having his scar and being an orphan will be explained.**

 **Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I was a bit of a freak, checking my email whenever I got a notification. It's a real cool thing to see people reading and commenting on something you've written. Please keep them coming.**

 **How is Sy? Harry's spending more time with her, and it is showing. No suggestions for names so I've picked something from Twig, another web serial, by the same guy who wrote Worm. Sy sounded like something she would accept, haha.**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading,**

 **L. Thatcher**

 **Edit: I've changed Harry's age to 10 instead of 8. People have pointed out he sounded too mature, and I agree. Thanks for the feedback guys.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Harry had passed out. He knew he was passed out because he could feel his body lying unresponsive on the ground, something he would never do out in the open. His outer mind was working furiously, feeling the grass beneath him, the soil, the heat of the sun, the slight trembling of earth as the other boy stepped closer. Sy, rose up, and the human stopped. His outer mind sought out the little presences under the ground, caught at worms and brought them sluggishly to the surface.

The boy took several more steps back. A safe distance, but not to safety. Where was his nest? Why was he in this unfamiliar place? Sy hissed, threatening, unintelligible, coiling around Harry's unconscious body protectively.

The worms clustered together, forming a net between Harry and the human. A weak, fleshy net that wouldn't do much of anything. The consciousness reached out, snagged flying dragonflies, and hurled them at the human, but it let out a startled sound and stepped outside the consciousness' range.

The human retreated, the consciousness still in high alarm, recruiting any creatures that wandered into its range.

But then, left alone, Harry's body in no immediate danger, his outer consciousness shimmered down. The human didn't return, and Sy and his bugs were still on guard. The sun twisted below the tree-line, and Harry's body started to shiver.

Soft rumbling on the ground. A voice, though the consciousness wasn't able to translate the vibrations. The human boy returned, slowly, making sure not to disturb the layer of bugs. In his hands held a sheet.

An offering? A gift for warmth?

More words. Harry's body continued to shiver. Fingers were too chilled to be felt.

The bugs parted. The human approached. Sy took a little longer, hissing threateningly before backing away, letting the blanket settle on Harry. There was immediate relief. It was as if they were in mid-day. The heat on his skin, the rush of blood through his veins.

Sy coiled up under the blanket, revelling in the warmth as well. The human stayed a little longer, watching, before retreating.

Harry woke when the sun rose again. He blinked his eyes open, running a hand down the blanket. It was soft, still warm, though he didn't know how. He picked it up, slung it around his shoulders and took stock in his surroundings with a calmer eye.

He remembered vaguely what had happened last night. He narrowed his eyes at the house in the distance. No movement yet, though Harry was sure it must be that boy's home. He'd show his powers, hadn't he? He'd called the bugs. He shook his head. If the Dursley's response to seeing him control a handful of spiders was to abandon him in a forest, then what would raising up a mound of insects do?

He took stock of all his efforts during the night. The creatures were still here, piled up nearly to his knee in height, forming a grotesque wall of flesh and chitin around where he slept. He made them disperse, though they were so slow that it made no visible difference.

The blanket flapped in the morning breeze. Though even after all that, he'd still come back with a warmed blanket. Strange.

"Are you awake, now?" Sy said from under his shirt. She'd wrapped herself around his chest, and it was a little sore. Harry shifted so she was around his shoulders instead, bearing her weight more comfortably.

"Yes. Did you get a good look at the boy? Was he… scared?"

Harry bit his lip, a nervous glance at the house. He moved within the shadow of the firs, and hoped it would be enough coverage.

"I surely hope so," Sy said.

"What? Why?"

"Do you mean to say you weren't aware of my bravery? I was truly majestic. I could have frightened off an entire contingent of humans."

Harry sighed. "Ah. Right. I mean, did he looked particularly scared of me?"

"You? I didn't notice. You're not awfully frightening, though are you? All soft with blunt little fingers and blunt little teeth. If not for me, you would have never survive in the wild."

"Right. And who was feeding who?" Harry shook his head. "Never mind. First things first. Where the heck are we?"

Sy sobered. Her head ducked and she shot out a tentative tongue to taste the air. "I don't know. Somewhere we have never been."

"That's for sure." There must be a clue somewhere. Maybe he could ask some of the humans in the houses. The thought didn't sit well with him, though. There was no guarantee what he'd find cloistered up in those houses. Better seek the company of the trees and good soil and sun. Harry groaned. "And just after finishing up my nest, as well."

"Yes, you did-" Sy broke off, her tongue scenting the air. "Careful! Hide yourself."

Harry ducked, without needing to ask. No sooner, then came a voice.

"Hello?" The boy from before. "Hello? Um. Are you there? I've brought some food for breakfast if you'd like."

Just like that, half a dozen delicious smells threatened to overcome Harry. Eggs, butter. Bacon. Fresh bread. The earthy scent of mushrooms, perhaps, and the slightly sweet sauce of baked beans. His eyes were wide. Harry hadn't smelled proper human food in what seemed like years. He took a breath through his mouth. Worth the risk?

For an instant, it was yes! Yes, yes yes! But then rational thought returned. Hadn't he trapped rabbits with tempting offers of food? Hadn't he baited the hooks he cast to the fish?

"Um. Well, I'll just leave it here, if you want it. It's good! Gran cooked herself, and I had to pretend to be extra hungry so there would be enough. Uh, you can keep the blanket too, if you want. If you're even there. I've got more back home and it looked like you were cold. So, yeah, that's it. I hope I'm not talking to thin air. I'd look like a real buffoon."

Harry shared a glance with Sy. If this was a trap, then the trapper was doing an almighty fine job of making him confused. He bit his lip.

"Don't even think about it," Sy hissed as quietly as she was able.

Harry peaked his head over his cover. The boy was there, a plate of steaming food at his feet. He certainly didn't look threatening. A little chubby in fact. Harry was sure he'd be able to outrun the boy if he needed.

"Not even thoughts. Get your head back down this instant!"

Harry stood.

"Curse you, you foolish hatchling."

The boy started. They gaze met, Harry's narrowed, ready to flee. The other boy's eyes were wide. The other boy took a step back. Running for help? Going to get the fully grown humans?

"Oh. You were there. I mean, that's good. I was worried for a minute."

Harry stayed silent.

"Uh, do you want some food?"

He glanced down from the other boy and look at the plate. He licked his lips.

"Yeah? Here." The boy picked the plate up and held it out. "I'm Neville. What's your name?"

Harry licked his teeth, stomach starting to growl from the smell. He was hungry. He hadn't realised how much. But the boy was out in the open, and he was leery of leaving the safety of the trees. He looked back up at the boy, Neville.

"I'm Harry," he said.

Neville frowned. "Sorry? Are you saying something?"

"My name. My name's Harry."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. Can you speak English?"

Harry gaped. "I am speaking English! What are you even talking about? My name is Harry, got it?"

Sy poked her head out of the collar of his shirt, shot him a levelled look. "If you're trying to converse with the human, you'll find that you two are speaking entirely different tongues."

Harry turned from Neville to Sy, and back again. The boy stared at his snake, though he didn't seem spooked so much as interested.

"Are you two talking? You must be speaking snake! Wow, I've not heard of anyone being able to do that before."

Speaking snake? Was that really what he was doing? But it sounded just like he was speaking English. Sy nodded, as if sensing his question. Or perhaps she was answering the boy's.

Harry cleared his throat, focused on pronouncing the words as they were in English. "Hello?"

He knew it hadn't worked. Neville, the plate of food still in his hands, shrugged.

"Well, maybe I could teach you English. And you can teach me snake-speak or whatever language it is."

Harry scowled. "I know English already! It's just not coming out right."

Neville continued as if he hadn't heard. "Come on, aren't you hungry? And even if you're not, Gran's cooking isn't to be resisted. We can eat in the gazebo." He climbed the few steps of the wooden gazebo and set the food down on the table inside.

Then he crossed his arms, like it was a challenge.

"Let's go, Harry. I don't like this. We'll go find our nest, back to the forest. We don't need to deal with humans, it's too dangerous."

Harry bit his lip. He felt that she was right, but he thought back to when he first was abandoned. Hadn't his goal been to return to society? Harry frowned. How had that changed so much? Why did the thought of interacting with humans - other humans, he corrected - seem so foreign?

Those thoughts had been floating around his head ever since he woke up. By all accounts, Neville hadn't showed an iota of bad intent towards him, yet he was still so paranoid this was all a trap. It went beyond the betrayal of the Dursleys to something else entirely.

He stepped out of the protection of the trees. Then, one step at a time, joined the boy in the gazebo.

Harry was rewarded by a wide grin. Neville produced a fork from his sleeve and held it out. Harry looked it for a second. He took it.

Sy poked her head out. Keeping watch, though Harry could feel her body coiled, ready to strike.

Neville leaned back slightly. "Your snake doesn't bite, does it?" Then he shook his head. "I bet you don't even understand-"

Harry pushed Sy back into his clothes. Neville's eyebrows rose.

"Do you understand me?"

Harry rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Oh! Then how come you can't speak?"

"I can speak, you dumbass," Harry said.

"Alright. So when you speak, all I hear is hissing. Weird sort of hissing, but nothing I can understand."

Harry frowned. That wasn't good. Had he somehow lost his ability to speak human in his time at the forest? Having only a snake for company might have had more consequences than he thought.

But right now, the food was calling. He took a bite.

It was heaven.

Harry wasn't very religious, but he was certain at that moment, that the food could have been a gift from the Angels. It was like nothing he'd ever tasted, but was familiar all the same. The plate was clean within minutes, his stomach aching, and Neville in a state of shock.

"Woah. That was… a lot of food. Maybe I hadn't brought enough. You look like you haven't been eating much."

"He's been eating fine," came Sy's sulky hiss. Harry had still kept her hidden under his shirt.

Harry grinned. "Thank you," he said to Neville, hoping his tone if not his words made it through.

"Was that a thanks? No worries. Are you still hungry?"

Harry shook his head.

"Alright." They trailed off into silence for a moment. Not that the conversation had ever been two sided, but Harry was doubly stuck. He'd never been good at talking to people, not when Dudley had always chased away potential friends. And now, even if he knew what to say, he couldn't.

Neville shot him a strange look. He wrung his hands. "I uh, don't mean to be rude, but I tried to look you up last night."

That statement certainly drew Harry's attention. Look him up? Certainly Neville didn't mean to try return him to the Dursleys. That wouldn't go down well. What's to say they wouldn't just throw him into the ocean this time?

"I mean, I knew there were magical creatures who looked like humans, but I don't think you're a satyr, or a dryad, or an elf. At least I don't think you are."

Harry stared.

"So I don't really know. I mean, I saw the stuff you did with the worms, so I thought maybe a Narceps, but you don't have claws for hands and a purple tongue. And you're hopefully not dark. You're not a dark creature, are you?"

Harry opened his mouth. Then he shut it again. He stood, smacking his hands into the table.

Neville jerked, his hand reaching for something in his pocket.

"I'm not a creature! Are you off your mind? I'm a human like you."

Neville's eyes were wide, and he clutched something in his hand. Slowly, he stood, matching Harry's posture.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have insulted you. I know you're not dark. The wards wouldn't have let you in otherwise. And I know you don't mean me any harm, or to my Gran. I'm just curious, you know? I probably should have just kept quiet."

"I'm a human," Harry hissed. He leaned forwards. "Is it so hard to believe?"

But Neville couldn't understand.

The boy picked up the empty plate, nodding back to the house.

"I'll have to head off now. I'm supposed to still be sleeping. Anyway, I'll see what I can bring down at lunch time. Might not be much since Gran's trying to get me to lose some weight so I look better in the press releases." He grimaced. "Don't know why I told you that. Anyway, it's nice to meet you. If you're going to hang around, be careful in the woods. We've got some carnivorous deer in there."

Harry glanced back at the smattering of firs around the gazebo. He could see straight through to Neville's house on one side, and the road on the other. There were no deer in sight.

He looked back at the boy, a new theory coming to mind.

Neville was crazy.

Harry stayed at the gazebo as the boy walked back to the house.

"Well… that could have gone worse," Sy said.

"Worse? He's totally nutters."

"Was he? I hadn't noticed."

"How could you not have noticed? He thought I was some sort of creature."

"If you say so. I'll take your word for it."

Harry huffed. Neville had a good heart, but his head wasn't screwed on right. All that talk about magic? Wards? He shook his head.

"Come on," he said to Sy, rubbing the top of her head.

They walked back towards the firs. Maybe Harry would have more luck with the residents in the other houses. He'd make a better impression this time, and not totally freak out and collapse.

Harry paused mid-step. His outer consciousness had been working as usual, scanning his surroundings. It alerted him to something strange.

Harry looked around, confused. Everything looked normal. What was the problem? Then he turned around.

The gazebo was barely visible beyond the pine needles. The house was entirely obscured. There hadn't been nearly this many trees.

He checked for the road, the other houses, only to find himself faced with an expanse of firs, continuing on for as long as he could see.

"What's going on here?" he whispered to Sy. "This is impossible."

"I… I don't know either." Sy flicked out her tongue. "The air tastes cleaner. Fresher. Different from before, and more like our forest though with the added spice of these trees."

Harry shivered. He backtracked, heading back towards the gazebo. His heart was beating fast, his mouth dry. Thankfully, the gazebo neared as he walked. Harry wasn't sure what he'd have done if it had disappeared like the road.

He returned to the edge of the woods, found the gazebo and house as he remembered. He turned back. This time, he made sure he counted.

Harry counted under his breath. He counted the trees again to be sure. Thirteen. There were only thirteen trees between them and the road.

He took a deep breath. Alright, Harry thought. This didn't make sense, but the information was as he had it. He took a few steps into the trees, and counted again. Fifteen.

A few steps more, and more trees appeared. He tried to keep an eye, trying to catch whatever was going on, but it was only when he stopped and made an effort to identify each and every fir that the differences added up.

"Sy. Are you seeing this?"

"The forest growing? Yes."

"So I'm not going crazy?"

Sy didn't answer.

"Well, that's not ominous at all."

Sy still didn't answer. She was hovering, around his ear, body still. Harry was instantly alert.

"There's something in here with us," Sy said.

Neville's words echoed back. Carnivorous deer.

Harry swore, and twisted around, towards the gazebo and safety. He stopped short. There it was, looming out of the underbush, fully twice as tall as he was. From the head, a rack of jagged antlers, which it lowered. Muscles tensed, it readied to charge.

"You should run," Sy said.

Harry couldn't. He was frozen. The deer took a step. Mist drifted from the sides of its mouth. It tossed its head, stabbing its antlers into the air, before pointing it towards Harry as it started into a gallop.

"Run!"

Harry ran.

* * *

 **AN: Hahah, oh dear. Oh dear, Harry.**

 **Hope this was a good chap. Nevill thinks Harry some sort of humanoid creature. Harry doesn't notice it, but he's changed a bit as he was staying in the forest. That, plus his powers, and Nevill's sure Harry's not a wizard. Or a muggle. So what's left?**

 **Anyway, leave a review if you enjoyed. Thanks for reading,**

 **L. Thatcher**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Harry ran, feet flying over roots and dried pine needles. He dodged trees, his outer consciousness working overtime to direct him. He was panting, his stomach cramping after eating so much food, and a giant, meat-eating deer was careening after him.

"Find a hole! Find a safe hole!" Sy alternated looking behind and to the front.

Harry pushed her into his shirt as he side stepped a fallen log. He didn't want to lose her in all this. He chanced a glance behind, and thought that maybe it was all useless anyway.

The deer was freaking huge. A hole? Sy could hide in a hole, maybe, but no. Harry kept his eyes up. He'd have to climb. It was the only thought in his head. He had to find a tree to climb, and fast.

Harry ran, passing fir after fir that was too large and too ungainly to attempt. Around him buzzed a small entourage of the faster insects. He'd drawn them together unconsciously, reactively in a bid to gather his resources against a greater foe.

There! A young tree, with a branch around chest level. A larger tree grew beside it, within leaping distance.

Harry scampered up, scraping his arms and knees in his haste, and pulled himself up to his feet. There was a larger branch about a meter away, on the taller tree. The distance was do-able if it had been on flat ground, and if Harry was able to take a run up. In the air, on flimsy slippery branches, with the threat of being gorged by a crazy deer? With that sort of motivation, anything was possible.

Harry took a deep breath, tensed, and threw himself across the gap.

"Cow balls! We are not birds!"

Harry landed one foot, slipped, landed on his stomach with the breath knocked out of him, and wrapped his entire body around the branch so he didn't fall off. He didn't take any time to recover. They were still within reach of the deer's antlers at this height. He had to climb.

The next branch up was within reach but just barely. Harry jumped, wrapped both hands around it and kicked off the trunk of the tree to hang, sloth-like on the branch.

He was just in time. Harry looked down, tightened his grip as the deer rammed full force into the base of the trunk.

"We are not birds!" Sy said again, her voice a shrill tinny in his ears.

"That's for sure, we're going to go splat if I let go!"

The deer backed off, shaking its head. The antlers scored the trunk of the tree, digging deep gorges. It was like the claw marks from a bear or a lion. Harry took the opportunity to swing himself around so he was sitting upright. He made sure Sy was still in place and grabbed hold as the deer charged in again for another ram.

"Which is why I suggested a hole!"

"Damn it, Sy!"

The deer rammed the tree once more. Harry bit his tongue as he was nearly knocked off.

He peaked down, heart hammering, hands nearly numb and arms aching at gripping the bark. The deer circled, snorting and Harry swore it stared straight at him.

Harry tore his gaze away. "Hold on Sy, I have to take us higher."

He glanced down, made sure the deer wasn't readying up for another go, and jumped, caught hold of a branch higher up and pulled himself onto it in one smooth motion.

Higher up, he could see through the foliage a huge expanse of greenery around him. It was a real, dense forest he was in. He couldn't even see the gazebo anymore, but he didn't know if it was because he had run too far, or because of that mysterious property of the forest.

A glint of light caught his attention in the distance. Harry squinted, but didn't quite make out the cause. It must be metal. Or glass, perhaps. Potential shelter from the deer, if he could make it.

A tremor ran through the tree and Harry yelped when he saw the deer had risen onto its back legs, and trying to use its weight to push the tree over. It slammed its front hooves down, and Harry heard a crack go through the wood.

"Not higher, please. Higher is further to fall."

Another slam. Another crack. It extended into a groan as the trunk threatened to give way.

Harry felt his stomach drop at the sound. He sought around. Something, anything to help. There were pine cones at the tips of the branches, but they were light, flimsy things. Maybe if he dislodged a branch, had it drop - but he wasn't strong enough. Wasn't nearly strong enough.

He could feel bugs living in the tree. Grubs, larvae. He still had his flying insects. Harry took stock.

Could he distract the deer? Then made a run for it? He might have to if it kept assaulting the fir. It wasn't a good plan. Dread, at the thought of the slim chance of survival, welled up.

"Sy. Maybe you should let go of me," he said.

A sharp pain pierced through his neck.

"Ah! You bit me?!"

Sy withdrew, her fangs sliding out of his skin. Harry clasped a hand to the wound, applying pressure and patted down his clothes. He felt Sy's tail and pulled her forcibly off him.

She coiled around his arm, tight. "And I'll bite you again if it helps you snap out of it."

"This isn't the time, Sy! I'm on a bloody tree, about to get eaten by that monster of a deer. I don't need you biting me as well!"

"Yes. And I'm on a tree, with the same deer. I don't need you spouting crazy ideas at me."

Harry stared at her, teeth bared in a scowl. The deer crashed into the tree again, sending a shock all the way up the branches.

"Fine," he bit out. "If you want to be an idiot, then I won't stop you." Harry withdrew his hand, seeing blood.

The pain was sharp. He could feel his blood pulsing, heady, alive. It helped with the fear, sending hot bursts of adrenaline through his veins.

Harry gathered his insects. The flying ones, the non-flying ones. They pooled in a giant lump, writhing bodies, searching antennae, bulbous eyes.

He pulled handfuls off, let them crawl along his arms, over his chest, down his shirt. His skin itched, and he fought off a shudder of repulsion, trying not to think of the many tiny bodies he'd inadvertently crush with his movements. He took with him as much as he could.

When the deer rose for another strike, Harry let a handful drop. He aimed for the head, but the insects impacted on the deer's flank. A good majority sloughed off, but the surprise made the deer pause, and Harry was more accurate with his second throw.

It landed clean. He forced the insects to crawl, to bite, to sting. Gnaw at the eyes, search of the ear canal, clog the nose and sour the mouth. The deer shook its head, a baying sound of alarm, and pushed its head into the rough bark of the tree, trying to dislodge them.

Harry hurled another handful, which splattered on the antlers. More bugs to join in the tormenting. The deer screamed, this time in pain, and backed off, hooves stamping impotently.

Harry searched for the structure in the woods, spotted the reflection again and took note of the general direction. He wasn't sure what it was, or whether it would present a greater source of danger than the deer, but somehow, his scraped together plan of hurling bugs at the thing was working, and he'd bought himself some time.

The bugs were still biting, clawing. More were dying by the second, but it didn't matter. He could feel the damage done to the deer's eyes. Harry dropped to a lower branch, then to the ground. His legs buckled, nearly sending him to his knees, but he caught himself with his hands and started into a sprint.

Almost immediately, the deer left the range of his power. The bugs would stop. He could only hope the deer was injured enough to cut its losses. Go away, he thought. Go away and heal. I'm not worth the effort of the chase. I'm smarter than your usual prey. Go away and heal.

The snort of rage behind him dispelled any notions of that idea. Harry picked up the pace until any normal person would be tripping over roots and their own feet. He didn't though. He could feel the lay of the land in front of him, knew with seconds of pre-warning where he should step. Harry had never been so thankful for the strange way his minds worked as he was now, running helter-skelter through the forest from an enraged carnivorous deer.

Still, even with that advantage, he was just a ten year old boy. He only had two legs. The deer was catching up.

But going by the crashing and the snorts of rage, he had blinded it, or just about. Harry kept on. He knew he was making a lot of noise and he probably smelled like fear incarnate, but he couldn't risk staying still and hoping the deer pass him by.

Instead, he picked up some of the noisier insects. Cicadas, crickets, even flies in great numbers, and rose a great cacophony. The noise was intense, drowning out something Sy hissed, and Harry hoped it would disorient his pursuer more than himself.

In-between the trees ahead, he spotted the same gleam of light he saw from the treetop. Harry, out of breath, skidded around a trunk as the structure came into view.

He had been right in thinking of metal and glass. A giant metal frame formed a dome. Hexagons of glass tiled together, reaching from the ground to enclose an area the size of a house. Inside, vague and distorted, were plants of every size imaginable. A greenhouse.

Harry sprinted for the door. It was made of glass and a simple fly mesh. He tried it. Locked.

Harry swore, kicked at the glass, then again at the handle. He didn't even dent it.

"Quickly, it's coming!" Sy said.

Harry spun around. Surely enough, the deer was close. It had caught its antlers in the trunk of a tree, but within moments, it would tear itself free and come upon him. Harry spread his noise makers around the deer. Go for one of the decoys first, he thought. He fumbled with the door know behind him. Open. It had to open. He had nowhere else to go.

Then, impossibly, the door gave way behind him. The knob had turned, and Harry, leaning desperately into it, tumbled onto his arse as he fell in. He scrambled up, not daring to question his luck, and slammed the door shut. It clicked as it locked itself.

Harry waited, silent, only his breaths filling the expanse of the room, and listened. The deer was still outside. Could he hear it's huffing? Was it readying up for a charge? The glass was corrugated, turning the outside world into a jumble of colours and textures.

Minutes passed, and nothing moved but for his breath and his heart.

"You should sit. Sit before you fall," Sy's voice came. It sounded as weak as his knees.

He did as she suggested, sinking to the ground, and braced himself with shaking arms.

"Oh god," he whispered, looking down at his hands. "Oh god. I could have died."

Sy hissed, a menacing sound. Harry wasn't sure if it was in protectiveness or rebuke.

"I could have died," he repeated. The words rang hollow. They were merely sounds. He couldn't stop his shaking.

Nausea welled up in his stomach and Harry threw himself to the side as he heaved up the remains of his breakfast. Acid burnt his throat, and his stomach ached with the effort.

When he was done, he caught his breath and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He pushed himself up, using the wall of the greenhouse to support himself, and searched for some fresh water to rinse his mouth.

Harry's eyes widened as he took in the interior of the greenhouse. Arranged in neat rows, separated by benches and tables, on which stacked books and pots and instruments of all nature, were plants that shouldn't exist.

Not plants that looked strange, though there were plenty which did. No. On one row, a spined, flowering bush was on fire. The fire was green. On another row, a vines held aloft on hatched fencing creeped from one end to the other like a centipede. Another plant, situated by itself, featured rings and rings of teeth around a gaping maw.

"Sy."

"No. You're not crazy."

"How did you know what I was going to ask?" Harry said, voice weak.

"I guess I just do."

Harry licked his lips. He spotted a clear container with water, but now he wasn't sure if he wanted to drink from it. In a greenhouse with monster plants, in a forest with monster deer, who knows what would happen.

Maybe he would grow two heads. Or spout wings. Or breathe fire when he burped. Harry chuckled at the thought. The chuckle became a full blown laugh.

He sat down, back to the entrance, looked upon the impossible plants, and laughed.

Sy rose to look in his eyes.

"Perhaps I spoke too soon," she said.

Harry's reply was to laugh even harder. He held onto his sides as a tear ran down his cheek.

"I'm serious. You should stop that or you'll convince me otherwise." She bobbed Harry's nose with her own. "Don't make me bite you again."

Harry hiccupped. "Oh let me have this. Today has been too insane to not become a little insane myself."

Sy bared her fangs. "I will not. I will not have a friend who is muddled up in the mind."

"By Sy! Didn't you already realise? I'm already muddled up in there. I'm as muddled up as they get." Harry sat up, eyes wide. "Who's to say this hasn't all been a hallucination? Maybe I dreamed everything up. Ate a bad mushroom and have been having visions all this time? Maybe you don't even exist!"

Sy struck.

"Ow! Hey! I said no biting!"

"Do I exist now, Harry?"

"Sy! I was only joking. You can't keep biting me like this!"

"Stop being such a baby. It's only a scratch."

Harry rubbed his arm. She was right. She hadn't even pierced skin, not like the bite on his neck. Still, it had done what she wanted to do. The mood was gone. The hysterical laughter bubbled away.

"Well," Harry said, after a while. He looked around. "What do you suppose we do now?"

"I know what you're not to do. We are not birds, however much you seem to think otherwise. Climbing was a fool's venture. You could have gone with the bugs and run like I told you to."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well I'll make sure to take your preferences into consideration next time I get chased down by a giant deer."

"You're not going back out there."

Harry sighed. "No. That really would be crazy. I don't know what we can do in here though. We'll need to go find food and water some time. Unless you think I should try one of these freaky plants?"

Sy looked down the rows of plants. She took them all in, slowly. "For the time being, I think you should rest."

"For the time being, I agree." Harry let himself sag against the greenhouse wall. He took out Neville's blanket from his back pack, raised an eyebrow when he found it still warm, and shrugged it around his shoulders.

He made a little pouch for Sy, who curled up against his chest. With another look to make sure none of the plants were going to uproot themselves and attack him, Harry let his eyes shimmer closed.

He kept watch with his outer consciousness as he fell into an exhausted sleep.

 **AN: Ha! I could have had him accidentally apparate away from the deer, but that wouldn't have been very exciting, would it? And I figure the Longbottoms must have a greenhouse of some sort with how good Neville is at herbology in canon. The forest too. Space expanding charms, or a dimensional pocket. Or something.**

 **Anyway, we'll see more Neville in the next chap. Harry's not going to be pleased.**

 **Thanks for reading and keeping up with the story. It's been fun writing so far! Comments are always appreciated.**

 **L. Thatcher**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Several days passed in the greenhouse without event. Harry and Sy had explored the safer parts of it, winding through the tables, peaking through the books lying around. They held more questions than answers, and the drawings showed yet more improbable plants. They hadn't ventured outside, managing to survive on the little food Harry had stored in his bag from his nest.

Harry didn't know if he'd want to risk running into that deer ever again, even as he munched on the last of his carrots.

He was sitting on a stool by a workbench on the side of the room. Stacked around him were glass jars, each filled with a liquid preservative of some kind, and stuffed with leaves and roots. He'd chosen this particular spot because the specimens looked at least somewhat familiar. He thought he could spot the shape of a maple leaf, though it was one with strange black and grey striations.

Sy had curled up inside a mortar and pestle. However unwise Harry thought it was - who knows what it had been used to grind up - the snake said it smelled fine and was currently napping. Soft sunlight bathed over them both, lending a calmness that Harry hadn't expected to ever feel again.

The greenhouse door banged open. Harry stood, his stool clattered to the ground and scooped up Sy. She woke, but kept silent as he ducked beneath the table.

He knew the calmness wouldn't last.

He heard hurried footsteps as the greenhouse door swung shut again. A sigh of relief.

Harry peaked out over the top of the table. He blinked when he saw the familiar face. With round cheeks, curly brown hair, thrown into disarray, Neville was standing at the entrance, panting.

"It's that human again," Sy hissed.

Harry scowled and stood, walking around the edge of the table.

"Oh!" Neville looked surprised to see him. "Hello? I didn't expect to see you again. How did you get in here anyway?"

Harry crossed his arms. "What do you mean, carnivorous deer? Why would you just say that and nothing else?" Harry didn't care that Neville wouldn't understand. "If you knew they were giant crazy monsters and that I would going to go into these crazy expanding woods, then why would you just let me?"

Neville held out his hands, palms out.

"Woah, woah. How'd you even get through those woods? No one's supposed to be able to do that."

"Yeah, because of the man-eating deer guarding the place, am I right?"

"Sorry! I was going to come back at lunch. I did, but couldn't find you. I checked, I really did."

Harry groaned in frustration. He had so many questions, but curse his inability to get the words right.

"What did you expect? For him to suddenly be able to understand what you were saying?" Sy asked.

"That," Harry stressed out, "would be perfect, right now."

With a quick step, Neville went to a cabinet and unlatched it. He pulled out a pair of thick gloves and some darkened glasses and put them on. When he saw Harry hovering at his shoulder, Neville pulled out a second pair and handed them to him.

"You should put these on. Venicus Phlebotomis don't like getting re-potted. If you're not careful you'll get dark spots in your vision for days," Neville said as he tapped his glasses. "You can watch but I'll have to be quick. Gran says I shouldn't even be going to the greenhouses with the reporters arriving at one."

Neville glanced back at Harry with a shrug. "Maybe I'd get off with it if I pretended I lost track of time. That's what normal boys do, right? Go play and lose track of time? I bet other people don't have to go to press conferences and have cameras flashing in your face, and constant reminders that you're the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry looked at Sy, who looked back at him, just as clueless. He understood about every word in two, with how quick Neville spoke. He wasn't even sure if the other boy was talking to him. Neville certainly didn't wait for a response before stomping over to a rack of plants and pulled down a pot from the others.

Harry hurriedly put his glasses on and covered Sy's head with his eyes. He blinked, adjusting to the darkened world, before Neville gripped the leafy fronds of the plant and pulled.

It hadn't looked particularly remarkable, but as the roots emerged, they started to pulse. The light was strong, even through the glasses, and Harry had to squint. Neville emptied the soil, refilled it and packed the plant back in.

He did the same to three other pots, each a slightly different size, before he brushed the soil off his gloves and took the glasses off.

"I realised you weren't a magical creature, though," Neville said as he turned to face Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes. That wasn't any great accomplishment, according to him.

"I asked my Gran. She said there once were wizards who could speak to snakes, Parselmouths, but that there weren't any more. But I dunno, she doesn't know everything, does she? And I suppose the bit with the bugs was some accidental magic. She wouldn't believe me, though, when I hold her about you." Neville shook the hair out of his eyes. "Made me nearly question myself."

Neville paused, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Uhh, so yeah. Sorry about that."

Harry glared. "I don't much care about that like I care about the freaking murderous deer. Who has a murderous deer in their back yard?"

"To be fair," Sy said, "it was more of a back forest."

Harry continued to glare at Neville, who was utterly abashed for the wrong reasons.

"Oh. Hey, since you can understand English, maybe you can write it?" Neville looked at Harry, who nodded.

At least, he hoped he could write. It would be kind of strange if he found he could only draw snakes or something, but it wasn't as if strangeness was a foreign concept after the last few days.

Neville found a notepad in one of the drawers, and handed over that along with what appeared to be a quill. Harry took it, blinking, and raised an eyebrow.

"Go on, give it a try."

Harry looked at the feather in his hands, then back at Neville. The other boy pushed over a vial of ink with an encouraging gesture.

Harry shrugged, dipped the feather into the ink, and wrote, in blotchy, awkward letters:

 _You bloody idiot._

Neville blinked. "Hey! I've already apologised. But hey, you can write."

 _I mean about the bloody deer._

Neville grimaced. "So you did see one."

 _See one?! It chased me up a bloody tree._

Neville blanched. His face turned a pasty white as he gaped at Harry. That was a more appropriate reaction, Harry thought, though it didn't make up for all he'd been through.

"He looks like he's been killed and left to freeze in winter," Sy said. "I wonder if that's accurate. Should we test it out?"

"No killing people, Sy," Harry said.

"I'm- Oh bugger, I'm so sorry. You wouldn't have had a wand, would you? I'd forgotten. They wouldn't have bothered you if you had a wand." Neville pulled out the same stick he used to threaten Harry with when he first found himself stolen from his nest. "Are you hurt? How did you get away? Oh Merlin, you could have died."

Harry shook his head, uncomfortable with the reminder. He scratched out another blotchy message.

 _STOP. Start at the beginning. Are you saying you're a wizard? With a wand and magic and everything?_

Neville blinked at him, then his mouth fell into an O. "You're muggleborn! Of course you are." He dropped his head into his hands. "Oh no, I'm doing this all wrong. You should have had a proper Introduction. I don't know how to explain everything to a muggleborn!"

 _Well try. You have to make up for the deer._

"He's not going to be done with his payment with only a few words," Sy said.

Harry agreed.

 _And don't think that'll all you have to do, either._

Neville pursed his lips, hesitated and then nodded. "Well, I'll try my best, I guess."

He held out his stick.

"This is a wand. It's my wand. No wait. Alright, let me start again. There are two kinds of people in the world. Those who can use magic, we call witches and wizards. Those who can't we call muggles. You can obviously do magic, so you're a wizard."

Harry didn't give Neville any reaction. The words were going through him, foreign, but making a deal of sense. Magic? Were his abilities magic?

 _Show me._

Neville met Harry's expectant gaze with a self-depreciating smile. "That's why I said I'm not good to do this explaining. It's usually an adult who goes through all this. I don't actually know many spells yet. Hogwarts doesn't start until September. Oh! I reckon you'll be going too, once you turn eleven. When's your birthday?"

 _Show me some magic!_

"Okay, okay." Neville bit his bottom lip. "Well, this worked when I tried it last time. It's meant to make a little light at the tip of my wand." He held it out in front of him, frowning in concentration.

"Lumos."

Harry squinted. Nothing happened.

"Uhh. Let me try again. Lumos!" Neville did a kind of flourish, flicking it as if to try force light out. Harry stared at him, unimpressed.

"What is that fool of a human doing? Waving that stick about?"

"I think he wants to turn it into a flash light," Harry said.

"A flash light?"

"Ahh. Like a tiny sun."

"Aha!" Neville's excitement drew Harry's attention again. He held his breath as the light at the tip of Neville's wand twinkled in front of him.

The other boy wore a proud grin. He didn't have to touch the wand to tell it gave off no heat. Still, it wasn't the most convincing of tricks. Lights were easy. Harry reached for the notepad.

 _What else?_

Neville's face fell. The light faded away, and he tapped his chin in thought. "Well, I've been practicing levitation, but I'm not very good at it yet. Hey, if you come back to the house, I could show you a bunch of magical artefacts."

But Harry was suddenly distracted by something in his outer awareness.

Air was moving like it hadn't been before. A gust, movement, though Harry scanned the area with his eyes and saw nothing.

"What do you say? Oh, but that means I'll have to face the reporters. I am not looking forward to that."

Harry tuned Neville out. Instead, he closed his eyes, turning more attention to his other sense. Sure enough there was a strange breeze, coming from apparently nowhere.

"Sy, do you smell anything different?" Harry asked. He didn't like this.

"The place is too musty. I cannot differentiate anything in particular," Sy said.

All at once, the air rushed towards them. Harry's eyes widened and he lunged, pulling Neville down to the floor. A jet of red light shot overhead, and in the space where previously been nothing, a man appeared.

Dressed in black, face covered with a band of cloth, the attacker raised his wand, a murmur on his lips.

"Safety now!" Neville shouted from under Harry.

For the second time, a ferocious force tugged at Harry navel. He yelled, panicking. It was the same sensation that had brought him from his nest. He tried to let go of Neville but the other boy had a wild grip on his arms.

The greenhouse disappeared, it felt as he was being tossed through the air at hundreds of kilometres an hour, and then he smashed into the ground. Harry stared at polished wooden floorboards as he tried to catch his breath.

"Neville! Ensare!"

Harry lifted his head and got a glimpse of an old woman, dressed in a giant purple coat, with a stuffed vulture on a broad brimmed hat. She held a wand out at him, a wand which spat out rope that shot through the air. The ropes smacked into his wrists and legs, the force throwing him off of Neville, and bound his limbs together before he even crashed back to the ground.

"Wait, Gran, he's a friend." Neville scrambled to his feet and tugged the old woman's wand down. She turned on him with a ferocious scowl.

"Neville! Where have you been?"

"Gran! Let him go. He's the one who saved me."

Harry stared at the ropes. He stared at Neville's Gran. He stared at the giant entrance hall he found himself in. He stared at the portraits, moving in their frame, frowning in concern. He stared.

"Bugger me. Magic is real," he whispered.

Sy raised herself up from her perch on his neck, slightly wobbling, and hissed. "Magic is a real pain in the behind."

She caught the attention of Neville's Gran, who trained her wand at them again. Harry blinked up at her.

"A parselmouth! You were telling the truth," she said to Neville.

"Never mind that. There's a man in the greenhouse. He shot a spell at me. I think it was a stunner. It would have hit if he hadn't pulled me down," Neville said, gesturing at Harry.

"Damn it. Neville, stay here. You, don't go anywhere. If you hurt a single hair on my grandson's head, the house itself will throw you out, understand?"

Harry nodded. It seemed the only response he could give, though in all honesty, he understood very little.

The old woman gathered her coat around her and spun in a circle. A crack echoed through the hall, and she was gone.

Neville looked at the spot she had been for a second before glancing down at Harry, still bound on the floor, and hurrying to his side.

"I'm sorry," he said, tugging at the ropes. They didn't budge a bit and Neville succeeded only in digging them further into Harry's wrists.

"You seem to be doing a lot of that," Harry said, more to Sy than the other boy.

Neville must have cottoned onto his tone, because he grimaced. "Thanks, though. For back there. I don't know how you reacted so quickly but if you hadn't tackled me… who knows what could have happened." He shot Harry a wry grin, lacking in all humour. "The Longbottoms have more enemies than your regular household."

Neville sat back beside Harry and pulled his knees into his chest. Several tense moments passed, neither of the two saying anything. Harry, though wrists and ankles were bound, did his best to keep aware of the surroundings with his outer mind.

His awareness swept over the polished floor, the heavy wooden furniture, and the - Harry turned a blind eye to their strangeness for now - moving portraits. He had only gotten forewarning from a change in the air movements. The man, that wizard, had been invisible. Harry shivered. How was he supposed to defend against an invisible foe?

Before he could dwell on the thought, another crack echoed through the hall. It wasn't Neville's Gran who appeared, however. A black-robed man with greasy hair and a sour expression sheathed his wand up his sleeve and brushed himself down.

Harry's alarm at the new face was tempered by Neville's greeting.

"Professor Snape! Who was it? Is my Gran alright?"

The man, Snape, barely even glanced at Neville. "Be quiet. Madam Longbottom will be with you in a moment." He said all this while staring right at Harry.

Harry frowned back, unnerved.

"As for you, our little interloper..."

The man's gaze was intense. Harry found he couldn't break his gaze, however much it was intimidating. His eyes watered, aching to blink, but he was held. He was frozen the same way as he had been when he faced down the deer. Something primal was keeping him still.

Then dark eyes widened. The force keeping Harry's gaze on Snape's broke and he glanced away. Snape took in a sharp breath, almost wavered on his feet.

"Professor?" Neville asked.

But the man was ashen. He stepped towards Harry, who tried to lean away, and knelt.

"How is this possible?" Snape asked. He reached out a hand. Harry flinched. Sy struck.

"Dung beetles." Snape yanked his hand away and backed off.

Harry blinked. Then Sy was flying through the air, a startled hiss as she was banished from his neck. She smacked into the wall with a dreadful thud and fell down to the ground, still. Harry felt his breath catch in his chest.

"Sy! You bastard!" Harry didn't care that he was bound. He threw himself at the man head first, snarling and head-butted the man in the middle. "How the fuck dare you," he hissed. Then, without even meaning to, took advantage as Snape stumbled and sank his teeth into the man's shoulder. He bit into cloth, tasted bitterness and locked his jaw.

He latched on, grinning at the sound of a shout. Hands were trying to pull him away, but he squirmed and shook them off. They'll not pry him away from his prey. He had to avenge his nest-mate, his sister. He ignored the pain when his arm was nearly wrenched out of its socket, kicked out with his legs at those who tried to remove him.

Then a flash of red, and nothing.

* * *

 **AN: Hahahahaha. Oh my lord. How was that, huh? How was that?!**

 **Damn, I should be writing my thesis. Oh well, have another chapter, guys. Things are going down. They're going down! Ahem. Excuse my enthusiasm, I got a little caught up. Anyway, thanks to everyone following and supporting Mindleak. I'm glad to share this story for everyone who's reading.**

 **Always happy to hear from you guys,**

 **L. Thatcher**

 **Edit: should note that updates might be slower after this chap. I had some stuff pre-written and I'm getting into a busy period of my studies. If I don't push anything out for a week or so, feel free to send some heavily worded messages. I'll see what I can do.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Harry woke, his minds writhing. How? He had always been aware, even when he slept. How could both of his minds been knocked unconscious?

His outer mind crawled through his surroundings, feeling the bed, covers soft and warm, bedside table with a vase and a single flower, and the man in the chair beside him. Small minds he'd never felt before clustered in the walls. When Harry tried to control them, their movement was sluggish, almost resisting.

Sy? Not within range.

His attention returned to the man. Different height and stature to Snape, or Harry would have leapt at him the moment he woke. He clenched his fist, experimentally, and found he was unbound. It was better than being tied up, but if he was among wizards with their crazy magic, it probably made no difference.

The man on the chair nodded, and snorted awake. Harry inched his eyes open, spotted scraggly hair, a tanned, lined face and caught the scent of dog.

He also smelled fresh bread.

The man rubbed his eyes and sighed. Harry stayed still under his gaze, playing dead.

"Damn it." The vitriol in the man's voice nearly made Harry jerk. He tensed, ready to get out of the way in case he was attacked. But the man simply dropped his head to his knees and gripped his hair. A moment later, he straightened and took a deep breath. "They said you'd be awake now. Damnit, Harry. If I had known..."

Harry felt his heart hammering. What? Had that man known who he was? His thoughts were tumbling about themselves. Harry was debating the wisedom of giving up his act when the man stood with a sigh and left.

Alone, Harry opened his eyes. He was in a small bedroom. There was, apart from the bed, a cabinet, a bedside table, and startling enough, one of the moving portraits in Neville's house.

It was of a young woman, hair curled up the top of her head. Her eyes widened. "You're awake!"

Harry jumped out of bed. He hadn't known they could talk.

"Wait, let me get-"

And the woman was gone, leaving on the background of a vineyard in her frame. Harry gaped, then shook his head and started to search of Sy. Nothing in his room. He went to the door, pressed his ear against it, and then swung it open when he didn't hear anything on the other side.

Almost immediately he cursed himself. There could very well have been another portrait. Or an invisible wizard, Harry thought. But he was already seen, and they were bound to come. He had to find Sy before that.

The door opened out into a gloomy corridor. No portraits, though mounted on racks along the walls werea set of grotesque heads, with ears spiked like an elf, but wrinkled faces twisted into painful expressions. Harry shuddered, backing away. He broke into a run.

Stairs lead down to a lower floor, but that was where the smell of bread came from, so he turned into a side door. Bathroom. Nothing. He turned to leave, but caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror.

He hadn't realised it, with how gradual it had happened. In the forest, he had only the stream, and more worries than his appearance. Now, he was… clean. He even looked human. Like a human would in a city, like a human who lived with other humans would.

He looked alien. Even his clothes, a cotton night shirt and checked trousers, made him look like a regular human boy. That image clashed so much with what he imagined himself to be that Harry found himself frozen.

The door opened, letting in the man. His face was haggard and a wand was in his hands. Harry scrambled to put the sink between the two of them.

"Oh. There you are." The man trailed off. They stared at each other, stared for long enough that Harry recovered from his shock. He reached for the reluctant minds in the walls, had come converge on him, in case he'd need their help. Harry didn't know what manner of insects lurked in wizarding houses. More likely they were magical themselves. Good. He couldn't imagine throwing a bunch of cockroaches at a wizard would accomplish anything useful.

"Merlin. You look so much like James."

Harry reflexively glanced at the mirror again. Then the man's words caught up to him. He knew his father? Wait, but that would mean-

The man blinked and the intensity was gone. "What are you doing, Sirius?" He asked himself. Then, very carefully, he put his wand away and offered up a smile. "Hey, you don't have to go back to bed if you don't want to. I know what it's like. Being stuck in bed all day isn't fun. I was going to bring some toast up, but we can do down to eat too if you're up for it." The man leaned to the side, showing a levitating plate stacked high with bread and jams.

Harry looked from the man to the plate of food. The man, who Harry assumed to be Sirius, had a small smile on his face. Timid, almost. It wasn't the picture of someone who wanted to harm him. Not even someone who'd want to hard Sy. The point remained, however, that Sy was missing. Possibly-

Harry cut that particular trail of thought off. He'd find Sy and he'd get some answers. In that order.

He mimed writing on his hand. Pen and paper?

Sirius frowned. "Something to write on? Uh, sure."

He waved his wand, and just like that a scroll of parchment and a short quill appeared in the air in front of him.

Harry thought he was going to be stuck in a perpetual state of surprise. He reached out for the quill, somewhat expecting his hand to just pass straight through. No, it was sturdy enough. The feathers were smooth, fine, the parchment was heavy.

 _Where is my snake?_

He held out his words for the man.

Sirius frowned, Harry felt his heart leap into his throat.

"Ah, that's right. Snape did mention something about a snake."

 _Is she alright?!_

Harry underlined the words, nearly thrust them at Sirius.

"Yes? I think so? I'm not an expert though, so..." Sirius caught sight of Harry's face. "I'm sure she's alright. Actually, how do you want to visit her right now?"

 _Yes, now!_

Then, with a second of thought.

 _Please._

Sirius grinned, looking years younger as he did so. Harry could see how some of his wrinkles were from mirth, though others still were the lines of worry.

The man glanced at the bread, flicked his wand, and the plate of food went floating off.

"Alright. Trip to Hogwarts now but breakfast as soon as we get back, agreed?"

Harry gave him a quick, short nod. Hogwarts? The school than Neville mentioned, wasn't it? He couldn't forget it so soon with how ridiculous it sounded.

Sirius led him down the stairs. They passed another portrait, covered over with heavy curtains, skirted around a strange looking umbrella stand, a small kitchenette infested with more of the little presences in the walls.

Harry, cautiously, let go the ones he had gathered and made a note to return to investigate exactly what it was he was controlling. If he had to use them to defend himself, he didn't want people dying left right and centre because he'd sicced magical black widows on them or something.

The ground floor of Sirius' house was a great deal less gloomy than the upstairs. Harry couldn't reconcile the stuffed heads mounted on the walls with this so-far normal man. The lounge was occupied by a pair of couches snugged up against a fireplace.

Sirius lit it with another flick of his wand and an incantation, and a fire crackled alive. The man went to the mantle, picked up a pouch, and tossed it to Harry.

"Floo. You probably wouldn't have worked one before. It's not too hard and I can show you how to do it. Just toss some Floo powder and say the name of your destination."

Harry waved his piece of parchment and quill.

"Oh, right. Well, just come over then, we'll go through together."

Sirius stepped into the fire. Harry took in a harsh breath, but the man didn't seem to feel the heat one bit. Just like Neville's light spell, Harry thought. He went closer, held out a hand. Indeed, the fire seemed more illusion than anything. A very convincing illusion, with the sound and feel absolutely mimicking the real thing.

Harry took his spot beside Sirius, who held onto his shoulder - Harry didn't miss the moment of hesitation. A handful of green dust was tossed at their feet.

"Hagrid's hut, Hogwarts."

The fire roared high over his head, drowning everything out. The floor fell away under him, and if not for Sirius' hand still holding onto his shoulder, Harry would have started flailing. He half expected Sy to hiss obscenities next to his ear, but had to remind himself that she wasn't with him, that he was going to go find her.

They travelled downwards for what seemed like minutes, twisting one way and another. Fireplaces zoomed by, unlit, passing in flashes of stone and brick in a never ending tunnel down into the earth.

"Here we go now, get ready to laaaaaand."

Harry looked down and saw one out of all the other fireplaces lit. The same green heat-less flame cast shadows over the cobbled stone mantle. It was easily large enough to fit Neville's carnivorous deer inside.

They continued to fall, not slowing, and Harry's eyes widened when the fireplace came hurtling up at them. He tensed, then forced himself to relax his legs. If they had to crash, he'd rather he not break anything. He relaxed himself the moment before they landed, only to have his legs wobble out from beneath him.

The impact hadn't been more than that of a short jump. Harry had prepared for a thousand foot fall. He stumbled, coughing at the sudden coal dust, and stumbled out of the fireplace. He caught himself on a table and propped himself up as Sirius stepped out, a wide grin on his face.

"First time's always the most jarring."

Harry looked around the hut, his outer mind working overtime trying to categorise everything in his surroundings. The room was packed full, the table he caught himself on was stacked with bowls and dishes, books and even a collection of furs. The cupboards were full, herbs trailing down from pots, knick knacks piled together. Even the ground was stacked high with baskets and boxes. He found Sy almost immediately, curled up asleep on a warm bed of rocks near the stove.

Harry hurried over, checked her for injuries, found none, and ran a finger down the length of her spine. Sy woke, tasted the air and sniffed. "Look who's here," she said.

Harry's greeting stuck in his throat and he looked at her in confusion. "Wha?"

"You've broken your promise."

Harry paused, then rolled his eyes as he realised what she was talking about. "I- hey! I was knocked unconscious. By magic! I'm sorry you missed a couple days of crickets, but I don't think that means I broke my promise."

Sy ducked her head. "Yes. I see that now. I thought that you had died, that I had to eat the ugly worms the large human brings from now on. I was quite cross."

Harry picked her up and Sy settled into her usual spot around his neck. Sirius made a strange sound at that, but neither paid him any attention.

"I'm glad you're not dead, though," Sy said, so soft Harry nearly missed it.

He smiled and stood. Her familiar weight around his shoulders was a comfort that few could replace. "And how are you? You hit that wall pretty hard."

Just thinking back to it, Harry felt again the deep anger he had for Snape. He didn't know what he was going to do if he saw Snape again. Maybe throw him into the wall and see how he liked it.

"I'm… fine, actually. I woke a few days ago, expecting to be battered and broken, but I was just the same as usual. Perhaps even better than what I remember."

Harry nodded. "Good. I'm guessing they healed you with some sort of magic. Though how are you better than before?"

"Yes. Little aches, little strains. When I was young, a bird nearly snatched me away. It missed, but caught the end of my tail. There's been a small scar there, I'm surprised you haven't noticed."

Harry checked. Sy's tail didn't look much different.

"It's gone now, of course."

"Ah." Satisfied that Sy really was alright, Harry felt something within him ease. He didn't want anything like that to ever happen again. He, bound and helpless, and Sy attacked as she tried to defend him. He was bigger, he should have been able to take care of her. Neville had said he was a wizard and Harry had seen what wizards could do. If he was capable of the same, then he'd have no trouble protecting Sy.

And he had to admit, it would be pretty awesome to learn magic. Harry turned back to Sirius, who had taken a seat at the crowded table. The table rose high, around the level of his chest, and the man's face was nearly obstructed by a pair of wine bottles.

Nearly obstructed. Sirius looked nervous almost, looking between Harry and Sy. Harry lifted a protective hand and glared.

He pulled out his parchment.

 _If you hurt her, I'll hurt you._

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Protective, aren't you? I was that way with my first owl. But don't worry, I'm not going to hurt your snake after hearing of what you did to Snape." He grinned, suddenly all cheerful. "You're a bit of a legend because of that, eh? I've wanted to sock him a good one before but whenever I do, I always get lectured."

 _Sy is not a pet._

Sirius agreed with a shrug. "Well, as long as it doesn't start biting people for the sake of it, I won't have any problem."

"Hear that," Harry said to Sy. "You're not to bite anyone."

"Hmph. I'll bite whatever I want. But I'll promise to be sensible about it, if you wish."

Harry scribbled out another sentence.

 _She'll promise to be sensible._

Sirius nodded. He stood, stretched, and glanced at the door to the hut. "Well, we best be heading back. I'd hoped maybe you'd get to meet Hagrid, but he's probably doing some work outside. Ah well. Breakfast is getting cold. Together again."

Harry nodded. Now that Sy was back, he could focus on what to do next. He wanted answers. He went back into the fireplace to stand beside Sirius.

"This is a bit of a ride," he said to Sy, and made sure he held her close.

Then, Sirius tossed another handful of powder. "Number 12 Grimmauld Place." And they were off.

The instant they started to fall, Sy started shouting. "Not again! What are you doing to me, foolish human? We are not birds, I'll say it again, we are not birds!"

But the return journey was shorter than the first, and this time Harry landed more gracefully back into the lounge of Sirius' house.

"I'm sorry," he said to Sy. "You wouldn't have agreed to come through if I told you, and I wasn't going to leave you behind."

Sy was huffing, as much as a snake could huff, and shot Harry with a glare.

"Foolish bird. Leave me on the ground next time, would you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I will if I actually do sprout wings and fly." He grinned slightly, wondering if wizards were actually able to do that. It would be amazing, however much Sy would hate it.

He followed Sirius towards the smell of food. The dining room was cosy. A table for four sat under a window looking out onto the sea side. Dark sand beaches, pebbled with smooth rock, and an angry tide. White-winged albatrosses surfed the air, and as Harry watched, on tucked its wings to dive underneath the waves. If he could turn into a bird…

"Don't pay too much mind to that," Sirius said as he laid out a plate for Harry. "Changes once every few hours, depending on what's popular at the time."

Harry eyed the 'window' some more before he turned to his parchment.

 _You knew James? My dad?_

Sirius' eyes lit up. "Knew him? He was my best friend. And Lily too. Your mother was the most talented witch I had the pleasure of meeting."

 _So they were magical?_

"Of course they were! We went to Hogwarts together. Made enough trouble the teachers still tell stories of our escapades." There was a twinkle in Sirius' eyes and he tapped the side of his nose. "I was there, you know? When you were born. James made me your godfather."

Harry sat back, his jaw slack. Godfather? This man was his godfather?

"Please, I know what you're going to say." Sirius glanced at his hands in his lap. "Nothing hit me harder than when I heard of their deaths." Sirius looked up. "Of your death. I swear to you, I would have gone to find you if I thought you were still alive. We all thought we'd lost you."

Harry leaned against the table to stop himself from shaking. He was still struggling coming to terms with the fact that he now had a godfather. A stranger as a godfather.

 _There weren't any spells? To make sure?_

Sirius ran his fingers through his hair. "There were. There are. We tried them. I tried them. You don't know how much I wanted to find out that somehow, James and Lily were still alive. That you were still alive."

 _But I am alive._

Sirius nodded, grave. "Yes. And you are without a doubt a Potter. For some reason, I don't know what, my magic failed me when I needed them most."

A clearing of throat. "Actually, Sirius, you'll find that the very same spells elude us still."

Harry spun around and saw the oldest man he'd ever laid eyes on. A full beard, reaching the man's belt - tucked into his belt, half-covered a ridiculously purple robe decorated with silver falcons.

A pair of half-moon glasses sat in front of intelligent blue eyes.

"Hello Harry," the old man said. "I must say you've shown great bravery when you saved young Neville last week. We all owe you a great deal for being there when we were not."

Harry tilted his head. Now this was a wizard if he ever saw one. Though the old man was dressed colourfully, with hair white as snow, Harry didn't doubt that the man was powerful. He could almost feel it, waves of energy radiating out from him, a tingling sensation to his outer awareness.

Sirius stood. "Dumbledore. How goes the re-warding of the Longbottom's estate?"

"Progress is slow as these matters go, I'm afraid. Draining work, creating a new set of wards over such a large area. Makes me hungry for some strawberry jam on toast." Dumbledore twitched his finger and some of the previously mentioned jam plopped out of the jar, spread itself on a slice of toast, and floated over. The old wizard snagged it with his teeth.

Sirius muttered something with a roll of his eyes.

Harry watched as crumbs fell onto the old wizard's beard, only to vanish. He realised the silver birds on Dumbledore's robes were moving. They pecked at the ground and ate the crumbs left over from the toast. How strange. That piece of magic seemed to have no purpose at all.

"Now, if I shall get back to business."

Dumbledore reached inside his robe and pulled out a sealed letter. He handed it to Harry, who took it, noting the elegant cursive script.

 _Harry James Potter_

 _Western-most chair, dining room table_

 _12 Grimmauld Place_

 _London_

"It is my pleasure to invite you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, my dear boy. Your parents have cemented your spot before you were even born and it is my hope that you'll enjoy your time there as much as they did."

With a warm smile to Harry, and a tilt of the head to Sirius, Dumbledore turned on the spot and disappeared.

Harry looked down at his letter. This was it then. The ticket to the wizarding world. He clenched his teeth. He'd found more mysteries than he could have imagined today, a godfather who knew his parents, his own supposed death. He had a feeling that he'd have to do more than scribble questions on a bit of parchment to get to the bottom of this.

He didn't doubt for a second that some of those answers would be found in Hogwarts. Harry gripped his letter tight. For himself, and for Sy, he would become the greatest wizard the world had ever known. Or at least he'd give it his all.

* * *

 **AN: Hmm, how was that? Sy's okay, Harry a little pissed off that everyone seem to think he was dead. He's pretty pumped for magic school now. I'd be psyched too but then again, put essays and homework in front of anything and it becomes a bore.**

 **Just a note that I'm not going to be bashing any characters. I'll be trying to make everyone as real as I can. So Harry's off to Hogwarts soon. I'm thinking shopping next chap, and maybe the train ride. Then it's magic, magic baby.**

 **Thanks for reading, and leave a review if you've enjoyed.**

 **L. Thatcher.**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Life with Sirius was something altogether different from anything else Harry'd known. There was an unpredictability that permeated every moment of the day, an energy about the place as if Sirius could pick up and head off on a month-long journey around Egypt without notice. Compared to the dreary routine at the Dursleys and the carefully planned existence in the forest, Harry found himself strangely excited.

That, in combination with his complete immersion into magic, was why weeks passed in a flash, and Harry found himself only days away from the start of term at Hogwarts. During that time, he'd been inundated with countless stories from Sirius about his father's misdeeds at Hogwarts, the marvellous four Marauders and of Lily's tolerance of their antics.

Sirius tended to stray away from the time after Hogwarts, but Harry pieced together enough to know of the key events from books and old newspaper clippings.

He held The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts in his lap.

"Can you imagine," he said to Sy, "having your whole life outlined in some book?"

*The Boy Who Lived.*

The chapter title was immediately proceeded by a moving colour image of Neville, aged six, hands held tight in that of his Gran's with tear streaks down his face. They stood, surrounded by people in celebration, in front of a large brick building named 'St. Mungos.'

"No wonder he's complaining of all the reporters. He's bloody famous!"

Sy flicked out her tongue. "You sound like you might be jealous."

Harry snorted, and then felt bad. "Me? No. I wouldn't want the world's attention on me like that. And besides, Neville's parents had to die."

"Your parents died too."

"Yes, but when I was one. I didn't really know them to miss them, you know? It's alright, being with Sirius now. He tells stories, and I'm glad to hear it, but it's a far away sort of glad you know? I know I'd love them, Lily and James, if I knew them." Harry shrugged. He'd often pictured life with his parents, away from the Dursleys, but he'd never really put faces and personalities to the parents in his imagination.

"It's a little unbelievable, isn't it? That a baby could defeat the Dark Lord? I wonder what happened."

"Doesn't that book tell you?"

Harry shook his head. He found the section in question and traced the words it as he read. "In the evening of May thirteenth, You-Know-Who breached the Fidelius charm of the Longbottom household on his relentless campaign to extinguish all wizarding children born in the latter half of July. Five years after he began, You-Know-Who had brought ruin to many great wizarding families, including the Talleys, the Wincesters, the Prouds, and the Potters, along with numerous unfortunate muggleborns and half-bloods. It is unknown what transpired when he sought out the Longbottoms, only that before the night fell, You-Know-Who's presence was struck from the world, leaving only a mark the shape of a lightning bolt on young Neville Longbottom's chest, hence known by all as the Boy-Who-Lived."

It was strange, too, that the Potters also appeared in the book. It didn't feel like they were referring to his family, to his parents. Harry had found another mention of his name, in passing, at the beginning of the Dark Lord's crusade to off everyone born in late July. The Potters were one of the first families attacked.

The more he lingered on the thought, the more the reality sank in. Harry shivered and rubbed his arms to warm them. By all accounts, he should be dead. They all thought he was dead, and though Sirius had been working non-stop to find out why, no answers yet came.

A knock came at his door. Harry put the book away and picked Sy up from his shoulders and plated her an the table. "You sure you don't want to come?"

"If it means going through that falling chamber, then no. Never again."

Harry grinned. "But what if I need your protection? Or what if you get hungry?"

Sy rose up, regal. "Contrary to what you believe, I am perfectly able to hunt for myself. I did have a life before you turned up in my nest, you know? And aren't you supposed to be a big, powerful wizard? Protect yourself!"

"Oh don't still be angry at me! It's been ages, and I've only been giving you the juiciest crickets."

"Hmph."

"Hey kiddo, ready to go?" Sirius poked his head in, saw the books on his desk and wrinkled his nose. "Reading up before even starting class?"

Harry shrugged and concentrated on enunciating his words slowly. "I don't think I've even a little bit caught up. I should know all this already." He was getting better at English. He still sounded like he was a little dull in the head, but it was better than having to carry around a load of parchment and ink.

The feeling that he was left behind was a pervasive one. Ever since landing in front of Neville all those weeks ago, Harry felt like he'd been pulled along like a leaf in the wind, unable to even resist. He was only just able to reached the beach under the rolling waves.

Sirius rubbed the back of his head. "Well, I should be the one showing you everything."

Harry rubbed Sy's head as goodbye and hurriedly squeezed past his godfather. "Come on, let's go get my wand." He tried to not let Sirius dwell. The man had a talent for dwelling, and sank into moods that lasted for days. Harry much preferred the other version of his godfather.

He couldn't stop a grin from growing. He'd been waiting for this day for a week. The regular essentials, books, cauldrons, robes, had all been acquired by Sirius and presented to him in a rather off-handed manner. They saved the wand for last, though. Harry could tell it was something special, and he could hardly conceal his excitement. So he couldn't bring Sy along, but that was the only thing that threatened to mar a perfect day.

Sirius laughed and led the way down the stairs in a bounding leap. "Peter's going to be coming along as well. You haven't met Peter yet, have you?"

Harry shook his head. He'd heard enough of him, though usually through the moniker of Wormtail. He hadn't thought it too complimentary a name, but Sirius assured him that Peter picked it out himself. Harry hadn't quite believed him at first. It was an ugly name, easy to invoke pity, diminishing the namesake. Who would want a name like that?

The man himself was sitting on one of the couches, sipping tea from one of Sirius' old porcelain set. Dressed in plain black robes, he was shorter than average, with a bit of a beer gut. The man was entirely unassuming, apart from the leather wand holster displayed prominently on his right forearm, and the Auror's badge of office pinned to his chest.

Peter stood, nearly knocking over his tea, pale as he stared at Harry.

Harry tried for a grin. He hated causing that reaction to everyone. He wasn't a ghost, so they should stop looking as if they'd seen one.

Sirius cleared his throat. "Well, Peter, meet Harry, my godson, returned from the dead and newest member of the Marauders. Harry, meet Peter, Wormtail, stealth extraordinaire, chocoholic, and Auror of the fourth division."

Peter wiped his hands on his trousers, and held it out. Harry shook it, and it was a clammy sort of handshake.

"Newest member of the Marauders, eh?" Peter said. "We've been down on numbers for a few years, it's good to have some new blood. Well, have you decided on a name for yourself, Harry?"

"A name?" Harry shrugged. "I thought you all got your names when you became Animagus. Animagi?" The word sat strangely on his tongue.

Sirius laughed. "That's not going to be for a few years yet. Maybe not even until you're all grown up. We rushed things, we did. People wiser than us go through years of study before they make the change."

Harry grinned, taking that as a challenge. "Then I just have to start early."

"Well, name or not, I'm glad to see you," Peter said. "James was a great man. Lily too. They both loved you very much."

"Now, Peter, being the big bad Auror that he is, will be providing back up for us. If there's bad wizards around, he'll take them out, one-two splat."

"Sirius! There's not going to be trouble. We're only going to Diagon Alley." Peter grinned at Harry. "I only need to pick up some supplies, is all. And besides, there are plenty Aurors already stationed there should they be needed. We can't be acting as guards for any old family that wants us."

Sirius snorted. "Sure, call it whatever you like. Badass body guard or shopping for supplies. I don't know what I was thinking. Course you'd say the second."

And with that comment, Harry's easy going grin faltered.

Peter smacked Sirius on the arm.

"What? It is just like you."

Peter sighed and finished his tea. "Well. Maybe. But I am just getting supplies, Sirius." He stood, patted down his robes, and made for the fireplace. "See you on the other side, then. Diagon Alley!"

Sirius huffed, disgruntled. "I'm just getting supplies, Sirius," he said, miming Peter's voice. "Still went first through the Floo, didn't you? Checking out the other side for baddies?"

"Do you really think there'll be trouble Sirius?"

Harry's godfather looked down on him.

"I'm not going to lie to you, kiddo. You-Know-Who might be gone, but his followers are still out there. You got caught up with that attack at the Longbottoms, and although the rest of the wizarding world seems to think they're safe in their little homes, they're ignoring the constant work the Aurors are putting in to make sure that's the case. We've had a lot of near misses, and I have a bad feeling that's not going to last."

Harry nodded. Sirius wasn't often… serious, but when he was, Harry had a feeling that people listened.

"But don't look so grim. We're alright, so long as you're careful and stick close. Don't wander into Knockturn Alley and don't touch any strange skulls and artefacts. We're getting you a wand and it's meant to be a pretty awesome occasion."

The grin returned, and Sirius all but pushed Harry into the fireplace.

"Want to do the honours?" He held out the pouch of Floo powder. Harry grabbed a handful.

"Diagon Alley!"

* * *

Getting him a wand turned out to be a tricky affair. They were in Olivanders, a dark, quiet shop that was something of a relief after the hullaballoo in the alley itself. Harry didn't think he'd taken in a quarter of what was going on. Owls, bats, and cats for sale, cauldrons bubbling with samples, stores manned by goblins, what he thought was a hag, and curiouser of all, he'd been attracted to a window set displaying a trio of flying broomsticks. Peter broke off at the potions store, while Sirius and Harry made a beeline to the wand shop.

The old man, Olivander, handed him another wand.

"Oak and unicorn hair, twelve inches."

Harry gave it a swish, though he was more distracted by the variety of minds he sensed in the shop. The place was infested, with insects more densely spread than the forest. A hundred, a thousand little minds were crawling about the place, clustered around the wand boxes, some more than others. Harry tried to take control, but attempts to move them more than a couple centimetres was met with increasing resistance. There were even some buzzing around the wand Olivander handed him, though he couldn't see or feel anything.

What he could feel from his outer awareness, was the light tingling that he'd come to associate with magic. He'd first noticed it with Dumbledore, then realised that while the sensation was weaker around Sirius, it was still present. He'd gone around Grimmauld Place, hovering over items and cataloguing which were magical and which weren't. As he found, there were very little in a wizard's house that didn't contain some form of magic. Whether active charms and enchantments, or leftovers from the making process, from the bed stools to the enchanted portraits, a wave of magic surrounded everything.

This effect was only magnified in Olivander's wand shop. The wands emitted an aura of their own, nearly stronger than that coming from wizards. If Harry concentrated, he found he was able to feel where Olivander kept his own wand, up his sleeve.

It helped that there were the little invisible bugs clustered around it.

"Try this one. Spruce and gargoyle horn, eleven and a half inches."

Harry tried the new wand. Light in colour and in heft, it felt a little too springy as he moved it through the air. Olivander took it from him as if sensing his thoughts, and presented him with another, already waiting.

"Yew and dragon scale."

"Mahogany and hippogriff feather."

"Birch and rainmaker fur."

Sirius took a seat as the line of tried and discarded wands grew. Olivander, on the other hand, seemed to grow more animated. Harry didn't even get a chance to swish the wand he was handed before it was snatched away. He shifted on his feet, suddenly uncertain if he was a wizard after all.

The wand chose the wizard, as Olivander had said. What did it mean that none of the wands he'd tried chose him? Was there something wrong with him?

But then, Olivander picked out a wand made of dark wood. The outside of the box was clustered with the little minds Harry felt, though the wand itself was strangely dull to his outer sense. It had the feel of static electricity compared to a high-voltage jolt he'd gotten from some of the other wands he tried.

"How about this? Redwood heart, with a core of acromantula venom. A strong wand, but finicky and unwieldy in the wrong hands. Eleven inches. Well versed for transfiguration and summoning."

Harry closed his fingers, feeling the sturdy wood handle, the swirls of the wood polished smooth. The sensation of magic was still dull, but the moment he touched it, there was a pulse, almost like a greeting. A slumbering bear waking for spring. A warm wind rushed upwards, rustling his clothes and hair.

"And there we have it. That'll be fifteen galleons, young Mister Potter."

Sirius clapped his hands and handed over the golden coins. "That was a bit of a struggle, eh? I think you've got a bit of a queue outside, Olivander."

Harry lifted his wand up to the light. So this was his wand, was it? He flicked it again, and a twinge of static made his fingers twitch, but there was nothing more. Olivander placed it in its wand box and with a wink, handed it back.

"No magic until September first, remember. Now off you go. Mister Black is correct indeed. I have more customers to attend to."

Sirius opened the shop door, and Harry blinked to readjust to the light outside. A small crowd had gathered, all children with their parents, all of his age.

"Finally!" a boy with curly brown hair said. "I thought you'd never come out!"

"Dean, don't point." The woman, who Harry assumed to be Dean's mother, looked exceedingly ordinary in her jeans and t-shirt in the middle of Diagon alley. Indeed, others stared at her as they walked past, as if she was the stranger that stood out. In the wizarding world, Harry supposed she was. Even he himself had black robes on over his normal clothes.

Even if he hadn't gotten the hint from her clothes, as Harry walked past her, he felt none of the fuzziness that his second sense knew to be magic. She must've been a muggle. The other parents were mostly witch and wizard. Harry passed a dark skinned boy with arms crossed and a girl who was dressed immaculately with silver ribbons around the hem of her robes.

Olivander called for the next customer in. Dean and his mother took their turn inside, as the others continued to wait.

"Mister Black. I hadn't known you'd taken on a ward."

A tall man, dressed in pressed silver robes approached Sirius. He was followed by the ribboned girl who stared at Harry with a curious tilt of her head. She was pale-skinned, but not in the unhealthy way people got when they spent too much time indoors. As she neared, Harry sensed a magical tingling from her wrist.

"Greengrass. No, that would be correct. This is my godson, Harry Potter." Sirius clasped a hand on Harry's shoulder.

The Greengrass man lifted his eyebrows in interest. "Ah yes, I should have realised. You bear quite a striking resemblance to your father," he said. "I hope you'll show as much promise as your parents. Daphne, why don't you introduce yourself?"

The girl stared Harry up and down, and he got the distinct impression that she wasn't impressed.

"I'm Daphne Greengrass. Good to meet you."

Yes, definitely unimpressed. The man sighed.

"She's shy, I'm afraid. It's good to see you, Black. And you too, young Potter. We'll not keep you. It seems we'll be here for a little while longer before my daughter receives her first wand."

Sirius nodded goodbye and lead him back to the Floo network.

"We're not waiting for Peter?" Harry asked.

Sirius shook his head. "He had to leave on urgent business. I received word while you were checking out the wands. Called off to Ashford for an alleged case of muggle baiting."

They stepped into the communal fireplace and with a pinch of powder, they were back in Grimmauld place.

Sirius hurried off to the kitchenette and cleared the table with a sweep of his wand. He beckoned Harry over, and pulled out a chair.

"Now, I'd hoped Peter would be here for this, but it sounded like he wasn't going to be free for a while. That's how Aurors are, always running this here and everywhere. Now, you remember what I've told you about the Marauder's Map?"

Harry nodded, then his eyes widened. "But it was confiscated."

"Well, yes, but did you really think that we would just settle with our first creation? Oh no. We made several versions more, after the first. With you going to Hogwarts and beginning your own adventures, I think it's suited that I hand over our greatest creation to you. Can't have a Marauder without his map, eh?"

Sirius whipped out a copy of the Daily Telegraph and thunked it onto the table. The headline, as it had been this morning, read 'Fudge denies accusations of centaur discrimination,' and underneath was a black-and-white moving photograph of the Minister of Magic awkwardly shaking hands with a stern looking centaur.

It didn't look anything like a map. It was, however, intensely magical. Much more so than the regular newspapers, which held themselves only a sliver of magic.

"Ha! I bet I know what you're thinking. Where's the map, Sirius? Why are you showing me an obviously normal copy of today's paper?"

Harry grinned. "Well, I suppose you'd like me to throw it away. You've always said the Telegraph is garbage."

"What? No, no. And stop that smiling."

Sirius tapped the paper with his wand, and looked out at Harry with an air of drama.

"This, newest and youngest of Marauders, is what I'd like to call-" Sirius took a deep breath. "-the Marauders Map mark two."

Harry let his shoulders slump. " Mark two?" With all the buildup, he'd been expecting an awesome name. Like the Marvelous Marauder's Mistake… Mender. Or something.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

As if it had caught fire, the ink melted off the pages which started to fuse, shrinking until it was the size of a palm card, and no thicker than a piece of card board. Sirius picked it up, *unfolded it* and stretched it out and laid the map on the table.

It was a mess. Marvelous Marauder's Mess? Harry couldn't make out any meaning in the jumble of lines and structures. He could tell the basics, that it was a blueprint. He could guess that it was of Hogwarts. But it was so much more complex than he'd imagined. It didn't help that with all other wizarding creations, the pieces on the map moved.

Sirius tapped. "Simplify."

Lines erased themselves, labels disappeared. They were left with something more comprehensible. Harry could make out halls and corridors, and doors leading into smaller rooms.

"People."

And suddenly dots appeared with names floating beside them, moving about or staying still. Harry saw one, Argus Filtch moving at a leisurely pace down a short hallway before passing through a doorway.

"Creatures."

A dot appeared beside Argus, labelled Mrs Norris. They left the room and promptly disappeared.

Sirius, who had been following Harry's gaze, chuckled. "A problem with displaying a map of Hogwarts on a flat surface. The original map was heavily stylised. We had to break up each section of the castle into separate layers. For this map, we could simply do this. Expand."

As ordered, the map… expanded. Lines rose from the surface, peeling away and floated up into a three dimensional latticework. Harry found Filtch again, and realised that the small room was instead the entrance to a set of stairs. A stair way that moved. Harry backed away, and tried to take in the map in its entirety.

It was, as he found, an impossible feat. He was able to make out broad separations, when a tower merged with the castle whole, the central great hall, the sprawling dungeons beneath ground, but there were just too many rooms to wrap his head around.

"Woah," he breathed.

"Isn't it just?"

"Hogwarts is huge!" He'd gotten a sense of scale from Sirius' stories, but not to this degree. It was stupendously huge, stuffed full with corridors Harry could imagine getting lost and not being able to find his way out for weeks. It wasn't like an ordinary muggle building, with structures, with layers. He imagined it wasn't even like most wizarding buildings.

"And all yours to explore." Sirius tapped the map again. "Mischief managed. With this, you'll not have to worry about losing your way."

The map collapsed back down, ink disappearing into the paper, before reforming itself as an exceedingly plain cookbook. Harry picked it up, fingers tingling at the magic, and peaked inside.

"One hundred and one ways to roast a duck," he read.

Sirius snorted. "I wouldn't follow those instructions. Purely for show, but you'll not have other people realising what you've got if you don't want to show them. Marauder's secret."

Harry tucked the book into his robe pockets. "Thanks Sirius."

"No thanks needed. Only promise to bring the Marauder name back to the halls of Hogwarts once more."

* * *

 **AN: So yeah, I know that Peter's portrayed as a coward and a traitor in the books. I'm guessing he defected to Voldemort because he was tired of being treated like he wasn't a proper member of the Marauders. And maybe a death eater grabbed him and he was blackmailed or threatened. Anyway, that didn't happen in this story, so he's turned out differently.**

 **Btw, I've skipped over the paperwork and registration and stuff that would be required for Harry to be recognised as alive after all those years. Bit boring, and stuff, so I just moved on. His reappearance will be regarded as a minor curiosity, but nothing worthy of fame. People are known to hide away for years and magic is able to allow them.**

 **How'd you all like the new map? Not too big a stretch from canon, right? Didn't manage to get to the Hogwarts Express this chap. I'm fairly sure what house Harry's getting into, but I'd be interested to hear what you guys think. Reviews are always welcome. If you liked this so much you faved or followed, I'd appreciate a short comment too! It's a little disheartening to wake up to a bunch of people following but no feedback. I'll write regardless, but it's a nice gesture.**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading,**

 **L. Thatcher**

 **Edit: I know it's a bit frustrating not knowing why people thought Harry was dead. Sirius in particular is getting a lot of grief. I** **do have answers and some of them are coming next chap, but no one living knows the whole story. Harry is going to have to piece parts together himself. Again, I didn't mean for this aspect of the story to take over, it was meant to be a little mystery that gets explained later on.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Platform 9 3/4 was a buzzing hive of magic. Standing on the muggle side of Kings Cross, Harry could feel how the wall was hollow, how there was a great expanse of space through the brick work.

He had a trolley, on which stacked a trunk spelled to be lighter than it actually was, and carried his old backpack from the forest, stuffed with his robes and some snacks. Sy was around his shoulders, hidden as well as she could be with a notice-me-not charm. They had taken muggle transport to the station, mainly due to Sy's request. Harry didn't want to risk another 'we are not birds' session from her any time soon, and if that meant squeezing next to people on the underground, then so be it.

Sirius was at his side, tail wagging, snuffling at a rubbish bin and some cigarette butts on the ground. Harry hovered, guarding his trolley and watched his godfather in his animagus form.

"There's something strange, when a man turns to dog and back again," Sy said.

Harry nodded, thoughtful. "It does look pretty weird. He says it's not painful, but my eyes hurt just looking at it. Can you imagine? Bones breaking, reforming, shrinking. Where does the extra mass go?"

"I do not like to imagine it."

Harry hummed. "Perhaps there's a catch-all? A space set out for the human bits for all the animagi? Or maybe it's just all transfiguration. Wandless, wordless transfiguration? Maybe not."

"You are talking magic again," Sy said. "I don't much care to hear of this train-fig-mating."

"Would you rather be munching on a juicy cricket?" Harry kept a stock of Sy's favourate treats in his bag, knowing she'd be hungry on the trip. They were docile, and he picked one out of the bunch and had it climb its way out of the top and hop into his palm. "Look at it. Poor thing."

He held it up to Sy with only the barest guilt. She needed to eat, after all, and snakes couldn't survive on grass and leaves. He wouldn't think of making her try just to favour some brain-less insects.

"Delicious thing." Sy caught it, and drew it slowly into her mouth.

Still, Harry couldn't help but wonder if things had been different, and he be matched with talking insects instead of snakes, if he'd feel any different. With magic, he couldn't even be sure that insects were too dumb to speak. Hadn't he just discovered the pixies hiding in the curtains of Grimmauld place? He could control them, but they were less insects and more… creature. Sentient creature perhaps.

Sirius' ears perked up and he stopped circling the rubbish bin. His nose pointed into the crowd, his tongue hanging out. Without warning, he bounded off, scoring past muggles, nearly knocking down a pile of suitcases, to bark at the heels of a family of redheads.

Harry could guess who they had been waiting for. The Weasleys had been part of the Order, and Sirius mentioned how their twins were a particularly fine addition to the family. Sirius lapped up the attention, mostly given by the youngest, a girl with a dearth of freckles over her nose and cheeks. Their mother, a soft woman with a frazzled air about her wagged her finger at Sirius.

Harry had a smile as his godfather whined and drooped his ears. Sirius led the Weasleys back to him. Harry wiped his hands down his trousers, and swallowed.

"Harry!"

He braced himself. The Weasley matron rushed at him and reached out to grab his shoulders.

Harry stepped away. "Hello Mrs. Weasley."

The woman seemed a little put off by his refusal of a hug, but a warm smile bubbled up. She took a step back to take him in.

"You're all grown up now. And so handsome, just like your father."

Harry smiled. "I keep hearing that," he said. He was worried she'd try hugging him again, but with that much exuberance she might accidentally squish Sy. He didn't want Sy's tentative approval ruined before he'd even gotten there. Sirius had sent quite a few letters to allow an exemption to the rules for first year pets.

"Mum, you're embarrassing him," said the Weasley girl. She seemed embarrassed herself, cheeks red and hiding halfway behind her brothers.

The twins snorted and nudged each other in the ribs. Identical in looks and manners, Sirius had mentioned them as valuable sources of information and mischief. There were two other boys, one older with glasses and strict, straight tie. The other was Harry's age, and had a spot of dirt on his nose.

"Oh, Ginny, don't be silly. You're not embarrassed, are you dear?"

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it as he shrugged. "I… guess not?"

"Well good. It must be so exciting, entering Hogwarts for your first year. Ron's going this year too. Ronald?"

Ron sucked in the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, mum?"

"Come over here. You've got a spot on your nose. Let me get that for you."

Mrs Weasley pulled Ron's head close, the boy letting out a squawk, and really tackled at rubbing away the grime on his face. Harry hid a grin, biting his lips, and turned to see Sirius stepping out of a bathroom, human once more.

His arrival took Mrs Weasley's attention off her youngest son. "Sirius Black! That was very irresponsible of you, changing in the muggle bathrooms. What if someone had seen you? A dog going in and you coming out?"

Sirius chuckled. "Well, some would say I was a dog in any form."

As they chattered, Ron caught Harry's eyes and mimed his exasperation. Harry grinned. He didn't know what to think of the Weasleys yet, but seeing the family together and acting as a family should, it bought a touch of warmth to his chest. Sirius was his godfather, yes, but he had only been living in Grimmauld place for a little over a month. They tried to simulate the easy going nature the Weasleys experienced since birth.

"Sorry about my mum," Ron said. "She can get a bit much."

"It's no problem," Harry said.

Ron looked at him oddly. "You got a cold or something? Why are you talking so slowly?"

"Ron!" Ginny punched her brother lightly in the arm, then shot Harry an uncertain look.

Harry cleared his throat. "Uhh. It's just temporary. I've got.. uhh something. Yeah." He nearly groaned. Sure, keep stuttering and they'll really think you're mentally impaired, he thought.

"Alright. I'm Ron. Not Ronald. Only mum calls me that."

"Harry."

Ginny snorted. "Ginny."

"No one asked you, Ginny."

Her face turned. The girl stomped off with a ferocious look. Ron snickered.

"That wasn't very nice," Harry said.

"Well, you didn't see what she did to me this morning. Laid out two of Fred and George's slip and slides at the top of the stairs and nearly made me crack my nose on the way down. Don't get caught up. She's a real devil."

Harry's eyebrows rose, and he looked at her retreating back with a touch of caution. "Aren't you worried she'll get back to you?"

Ron grinned. "Nah, not til Christmas at least. She's not old enough to be going to Hogwarts this year. Reckon she's a bit jealous. I don't envy her, being stuck at home with mum and the chickens. Besides, I figure I'll come up on top next time, learning magic and whatnot."

The conversation broke as Sirius reigned everyone in with a wave. "Alright folks. The older ones know what to do. Just go smash your noggings at the entrance and if you're lucky, you won't fall flat on your face on the way through."

One after another the Weasleys rushed the wall, disappearing within. When it was Harry's turn, he took his spot with hesitation. He knew there was magic behind it, either giving the illusion of a brick wall, or turning it into a portal of some kind. He wasn't worried he wouldn't go through. No, the magic was thick, resting heavily on his second sense. He'd never been close to anything so spelled up, and felt just a little light in the head at the thought of running into it.

Harry took a deep breath. Perhaps if he went fast enough, it wouldn't matter. He gripped the handles of his trolley and started into a run.

The wall came closer. Closer. Then he smashed into the magic, stumbling as his outer awareness was engulfed. It was like the air was vibrating, thrumming with energy, and Harry stumbled.

Then he was clear. The world opened back up as he emerged onto the station proper. Excited voices and the hooting of owls filled the air where previously had been idle chatter. Harry wheeled his trolley around the Weasleys and felt his heart rate slow.

It had only been a split second, but the sensation! It was like he had been squeezed. An instant of new-found claustrophobia. He had never felt encroached on when he was in his cupboard. He had his outer mind then, letting him feel everything that was around him. But when that 'everything' was magic, it was too chaotic, too much.

Harry let a long breath out through his nose and took in the Hogwarts express. The train, painted a majestic red and puffing out steam, already had carriages packed full of students. Others stood with the families on the station, saying goodbye as the Weasleys were doing.

He turned as a hand fell on his shoulder. Sirius handed him a package, clumsily wrapped in paper decorated with lions. "This was your fathers," he said. "He'd let me borrow it back when… Anyway, you should probably have it now."

Harry squeezed it. The package was soft and light. Something of his fathers? He bit his cheek as a heavy wave of emotions rose up, and nodded. "Thanks."

Sirius ruffled his hair. "No worries kiddo. With that and the double M mark two, you'll be all set." He looked at Harry with a stern crease in his forehead. "Do your best not to get the map confiscated, alright? It's not something that should get into the wrong hands."

Harry nodded, and was then pulled off by Ron.

"Gotta go find a carriage now, mum. See you at hols!"

"Bye Sirius!"

They found an empty carriage near the end of the train, and helped each other get their trunks stored. Harry tucked the package securely into his bag, saving it to be opened later when he had some privacy.

Ron crumbled onto the seat and stretched his legs out. "So what's it like? Living with Black, I mean. Fred and George tell so many stories. He's like a hero to them." Ron straightened and fixed Harry was a suspicious look. "You're not a giant prankster too, are you?"

Harry shrugged. "Not a giant one, I guess."

"But yeah, sorry about what I said before. I mean, it's fine if you're a slow talker, or whatever. I wasn't making fun or anything like that."

"That's okay. I don't really mind."

A commotion started up outside their carriage. Ron pressed his face to the window to look. Harry peaked over his shoulder.

A small contingent of Aurors apparated in. They looked very formal with red robes, wand holsters and the badge at their chest. Harry's eyes lit up as he spotted Peter in the mix. Standing straight with his shoulders tucked back, the man's stomach wasn't so obvious. He fitted in perfectly with the others.

In between the six on-guard Aurors, was a very familiar old woman, and a very familiar boy. It was as if the moment Harry spotten Neville, that everyone else on the platform did as well.

Murmurs of the Boy-Who-Lived flew around the platform and a crowd naturally gathered around them, unwary of the Auror's intimidating presence. They parted as Neville's Gran fixed his collar and sent him off.

Ron stuck his head out the window. "Hey Neville! Over here!"

Neville spotted him, seeming to relax, and headed over to the nearest carriage entrance. Ron slid the door open for him, and Neville came in, pausing as he saw Harry, before offering up a grin.

"Hey! So you made it to Hogwarts after all. I wasn't sure if you would. One sec, I told Kate and Susan I would save a carriage for them." He took a quick glance around. "We should all fit, shouldn't we?"

Harry shifted up to make room. Soon enough, the two girls joined them. Susan was blonde, hair to her shoulders and clipped with two pins over her right ear. Her cheeks were still chubby and she greeted Neville with a hug. Kate leaned against the side of the doorway, shorter than most their age, and had dark pigtails.

"Hey Neville, Ron." Kate nodded at Harry. "Harry Potter right? My dad talked about you."

Harry frowned. "Your dad?"

"Yeah. Peter Pettigrew. Our parents were good friends at Hogwarts."

Harry's mouth fell open in an O. He could see the resemblance now that he looked. They both had the same slightly stumpy nose, the colour of the eyes and the slight slouch when she stood. That was probably why she looked so short.

Introductions went round, with Susan Bones giving him a shy grin. Attention soon turned to the fact that Harry was a bit of a novelty.

"I remember reading about you," Susan said. "And what happened to your family." She shot a glance at Neville. "I hadn't thought anyone else had survived."

Harry nodded. "I didn't know I was supposed to be dead either. My godfather, Sirius, was really upset. He blames himself for not finding me sooner."

"Yeah, that sounds like him," Kate said with a frown. "So you don't know what happened? Where were you living then? All these years?"

"No. I was with my relatives. My Aunt and Uncle. They're muggles, but out of all of us, they're probably the ones with the best idea. Sirius sent an owl a week or so ago, but they haven't written back. I think he means to visit them in America, even he'll have to go through customs and do a bunch of paperwork." Harry left out how they'd abandoned him in the forest. He hadn't even told Sirius, with how over protective the man seemed to be. He wasn't huge fans of his muggle relatives, but he didn't want them hurt.

"Muggles, eh? That must've been a bummer," Ron said, throwing his hands behind his head. "No magic at all. All they have is elek- elect-"

"Electricity? Yeah, it was pretty normal." Harry shrugged, not enjoying this strain of questioning. "You alright, Neville?"

The boy groaned. "I was enjoying not being the one in the spotlight," he said with a grin. Then he sobered. "But yes, I'm alright, thanks to you. And I notice you can speak now."

"You two have met?" Ron said, at the same time that Susan's eyes widened.

"Oh!" She turned to Neville. "You didn't tell me it was Harry who saved you."

Neville rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I didn't really know his name at the time. You didn't write it down or anything. Hey, do you still have your snake?"

"Snake?" Ron pushed himself back into the chair. "You have a snake?"

"Dad didn't say anything about that when he visited."

Harry hummed. "Sy was sleeping upstairs. She likes taking naps," he said to Kate. "Do you want to see her?"

"Yeah, of course!" Kate said. Susan looked eager too, though Ron was a little green around the gills.

"Alright, hold on. Let me ask her first." He peaked under his collar and stroked Sy's head to wake her. "Hey. Want to show off a little?"

Ron gasped. "You're a parselmouth!"

Harry looked up, focusing back on his English. "Yeah. I know."

Sy flicked out her tongue. "I taste many young humans."

Harry snorted. "I'm glad I don't have to taste them," he said.

"You're really speaking to the snake?"

Ron was shushed by Katie who was leaning forward trying to get a peak. Harry shuffled away, feeling awkward that a girl was trying to look under his shirt. For whatever reason.

"It's too noisy. Maybe if you give me another cricket," Sy said.

"Really? You've sunken to accepting treats for tricks?"

"Oh be quiet, you. You know what? Fine." She untangled herself from around his neck and travelled down his sleeve. She poked her head out of the end and Harry was quick to support her with his other arm. She was getting quite heavy.

"Merlin," Ron said in a hush.

"She's pretty. What did she say?"

"She says you're very loud," Harry said. "And she tried to make me give her another cricket."

"I think she's gotten larger from last I saw her," Neville said. "Though I much prefer it when she isn't hissing and trying to bite me."

Sy shifted in Harry's hands and Ron inched back. "She'll be good," Harry said. "She promised not to bite anyone." Well, that wasn't exactly what Sy promised, but Harry figured it amounted to the same thing anyway. Sy wasn't going to bit without provocation, and he trusted her enough to decide what amounted to provocation for herself.

"Say something to her," Susan asked. "The language sounds very strange. Not at all like regular snake hisses."

"Really? I hadn't realised. It sounds just like normal English to me."

"Yup, there's extra sounds and everything."

Harry turned to Sy, thinking. "Hey Sy. Have you ever talked to another snake before?"

She bobbed her head. "Occasionally, when one came to contest my territory. More threats than talks, I suppose. And my mate, though he did very little conversion either."

Harry cleared his throat, fighting off a blush. "Were you talking the same way as you do with me? I mean, does it sound the same to you?"

"I talk more to you than any other snake. It is difficult to know."

"I hear it too," Neville said. "You're right, Suze. It's not like normal hisses at all."

Susan grinned and ducked her head. "It was just something I'd noticed, is all."

Kate laughed, bumping shoulders with her. "And you keep complaining about your piano classes. Came in useful for something other than 'smacking out dull tunes,' didn't it?"

"Oy! I didn't say that."

"I don't know, mate. Sounds a bit freaky to me." Ron, who'd been silent since Sy came out, was still eyeing her warily.

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

Ron fidgeted as everyone turned to look at him. "It's just that… you know? Parseltongue is a bit of a Slytherin thing isn't it? Snakes and all that. You're not going to get sorted into Slytherin are you?"

Harry blinked. He'd honestly not given his house a single thought. Sure, Sirius said he and his parents had been in Gryffindor, but what house Harry would be in was left open to air. It wasn't as if he could just pick and choose, right?

"I don't know. I suppose we'll have to find out when we get there. It's not that big of a deal, is it?"

"What? Of course it is! Your house is your family. You get to earn points for the house cup, and play in Quidditch, and share dorms. And besides, every dark wizard ever has-"

Neville nudged Ron in the side. "It's alright, Ron. You don't have to worry. We'll still be friends if you end up in Slytherin."

The Weasley turned red around his ears. "What? No, I mean-"

"You wouldn't want us to be friends if you were in Slytherin?" Neville asked with mock hurt. "But we grew up together. You'll always be the first person who broke through my rough exterior and discovered the real Boy-Who-Lived." He wiped off an invisible tear as Kate scowled.

"Stop quoting that stupid article, Neville. Ron has to live it down some time."

"Yeah! I was eight. And I never said any of those things."

Harry laughed along as the topic turned from one thing to another. When the food trolley rolled round, they all shared a couple of cauldron cakes and chocolate frogs, Ron groaning when he found another Albus Dumbledore card. Before he knew it, it was time to get into their robes.

"This is it," he hissed to Sy. "We're arriving at Hogwarts."

* * *

 **AN: Damn, I lied. He was supposed to receive an owl from Sirius while on the train about the Dursley situation. Didn't feel right to stick it in though. Pretend the owl got a bit tired and went for a dip in a lake.**

 **Lots of chatter this chap. A whole chap just for the train. Argh. Be prepared for the grand entrance next time. There are some hints as to how it'll go.**

 **Many thanks to the people who left reviews. Encouraging or thought provoking ones, it's always good to get a reaction from you guys. I know the story isn't perfect. I miss things sometimes and appreciate people calling stuff into attention.**

 **Thanks for reading. As always,**

 **L. Thatcher**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"First years? First years this way." A giant of a man waved to Harry and the other first years. Harry had to crane his neck to look over his beard, puffing out of his chest, was illuminated by the swinging lantern he carried.

"Ah, the big man," Sy hissed, poking her head out from under Harry's collar.

Harry trailed behind Neville and the others as they gathered. "The one who you stayed with? The one with the nosy canine?"

"Yes. I won't forget them easily, though his fire was particularly warm."

Harry grinned. "You've always been bribed by warmth. I don't see how snakes can live, drifting from one sun-baked stone to the next, climbing on a human when they didn't want to move themselves."

"Follow me. My names Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts. Don't worry about your trunks, the house elves'll bring them up to your dorms after the sorting."

Hagrid's eyes crinkled and he ushered the students over to the edge of a lake, and several beached rowboats. He fell into step beside Harry and peered over at Sy.

"She feeling better then?" Hagrid asked. "Was a bit poorly when she got here, but a little pampering and the princess was just fine."

Harry smiled. "Yes. Thank you for taking care of her."

Hagrid waved a hand. His palm was bigger than Harry's head. "No need for thanks, Harry. Glad to see you at Hogwarts too. Come down for tea sometime? With the princess of course."

"Ah, sure." Harry blinked. He supposed Hagrid would've known his parents as well. What a strange thing, to have people he didn't know treat him like friends just based on his parentage.

"No more than four to a boat!"

Harry neared a boat, felt the presence of dozens of invisible insects - or magical critters - on the bottom of the hull and climbed in beside Susan. Another girl, hair unwieldy in the evening wind sat down beside him, and a blonde boy after her. Harry nodded a hello, recognising the boy as the one who went after him at Olivanders. Dean?

"How do you reckon we're getting across?" The new girl said. "There are no oars."

"Magic, I suppose," Susan said with a grin. "I'm Susan. Susan Bones."

"Oh. Hi. Sorry, I'm Hermione."

"Dean Thomas."

"Harry Potter. I heard it was the giant squid. It'll pull us across. Either that or my godfather's pulling my leg." Though now that he thought of it, perhaps it was those critters he'd felt. They were crawling all over the bottom of the boat, seemingly uncaring that four medium sized children had just climbed in.

Hermione turned to Harry with a frown. "Potter?"

Harry nodded.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

Susan smacked a hand over her eyes and Harry huffed a sigh.

"What you talking about?" Dean asked. "He's alive as any of us."

In the dark, it was difficult to recognise Hermione's blush, but Harry could tell from how she ducked her head, letting her hair cover part of her face. "Umm, sorry. That came out wrong. I just remembered something I'd read, that's all." She cleared her throat. "Giant squid?"

Harry grinned, letting the topic change without comment. The boat rocked as Dean leaned out over the edge, trying to spot something from where they were still docked on the sand.

"That's right, there are all sorts of creatures in the great lake," Susan said with an air of knowledge. "There's the giant squid, and grindylow and even a merpeople village on the southern side."

Harry supposed she would know. Both her parents had gone to Hogwarts, apparently, coming from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. There would've been no drought of stories in their household.

"I haven't read of grindylows," Hermione muttered, rubbing her chin.

"Hold on now," came Hagrid's shout.

The critters stirred and the boats slid forward. Harry gripped onto the edge of the boat, though more in surprise than needing to stabilise himself. The motion was smooth, as if they were gliding on ice. The lake was calm, but not that calm. Magic indeed, Harry thought. There was something in the boat itself, and there were the little critters pushing it along.

"Woah," said Dean. Harry echoed his sentiment. He sat at the head of the boat, and twisted around to get a better view of where they were going.

He saw the other boats, with other students, some chatting, others fixated on the way ahead.

"You'll get your first view of Hogwarts soon."

The boats rounded a natural embankment and the castle rose into sight. Harry felt his jaw slack. He took in the towers, the lights flickering from windows, the bridges, the gargoyles and banners. He'd seen the outline of the castle from the map but never had he imagined it would be so glorious. He shivered. They were still so far away but he could already sense the magic that emanated from the stones, as sure as he could feel the heat of the sun at day.

They neared, and the magic climbed until it was like the heat of a hot afternoon. Harry loosened his collar and puffed his shirt out to get some air through.

"What's wrong?" asked Sy. "You feel strange."

Harry wiped his forehead, found it sweaty, and rubbed his hands on his robes.

"Nothing, don't worry." He shot a quick look at the others, but they didn't seem the slightest bit uncomfortable. It was just him, then. With the heat came the familiar buzzing energy that was magic. He could feel it ripple his second consciousness as if it was a living thing.

Harry reached for the water, found it cool but unable to soothe. They passed within a tunnel and docked under a shadowed overhang. The stones were green, and Harry could feel small creatures hiding just out of sight.

He climbed out as quickly as he could, turned to help Susan. She gave him a strange look and Harry realised his palms were sweating like mad.

A stern looking woman took over from Hagrid, and Harry tried to focus on her words. It was like the magic in this place was drowning out everything else, with how strong it was. The stones thrummed. The simple wooden doorway was caked with it.

Harry held his breath as he and the other students stepped through. Almost immediately, he felt the pressure. His second consciousness was inundated with it and he felt it as a constriction on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. Light headed, he waited as Susan talked to Hermione, nodding when he thought they were asking him something.

He barely noticed the ghosts gliding out of the walls, moving only when one got too near and added to the oppressive magic around him. Then the double doors opened, letting them into a great hall. Harry took his breaths in short gasps.

"-alright there?"

Hermione was peering into his eyes. Harry tried for a grin, faltered.

"Probably worried about the sorting, eh?" Ron said, overhearing them from nearby. "Me too. I hope we don't have to fight a troll like my brothers said."

"A troll? Don't be ridiculous. They can't make us do that, can they?"

"I don't think so, but who-"

Harry grabbed onto the closest person, Dean, as he stepped into the great hall.

"Woah. Gotcha." Dean steadied him absently. He, and the other students were busy admiring the see-through ceiling, the impressive line-up of students, each at four massive tables, over which hung the banners for the four houses. An elevated table at the front sat the teachers.

Harry focused on staying on his feet. Something was very, very wrong. He shouldn't be having this reaction. Magic wasn't supposed to be this intense, this overpowering.

The hall quietened as the stern witch - Harry missed her name - walked up to stand beside a ragged wizard hat on a stool. There was a brief speech about sorting, and Harry couldn't even muster up the surprise when the hat started to sing. Students started peeling away to take their turn under the hat until it was just Harry and a handful of others.

Someone nudged him. He looked up, wiped sweat away from his eyes. Oh, it was Dean. What did he want? Dean jerked his head over at the stool and the hat. It was his turn? Harry couldn't concentrate. Someone pushed him gently, and he continued on with the momentum.

He reached the front of the hall, somehow denser in magic than the back had been, and plopped himself down on the stool. He nearly missed, inciting a short murmur of laughter. The hat hovered above his head, nearly dripping magic on his head. It twitched.

"What the?" The hat murmured. Then it was placed on Harry's head.

He closed his eyes and gripped the sides of the stool to stop himself wrenching it off and throwing it far, far away.

Through the murky pressure he heard a voice.

"What is this? Are you feeling the magic?"

The voice was in his head. It was too much. The world spun around him. He couldn't tell which way was up.

"Ahh, quickly then. Quickly. Let's see. Brave, but not exceedingly so. Willing to protect your friends at the cost of your own safety. You wish to be a powerful wizard but not for yourself and there is a deep desire to find some answers."

It wasn't just the world spinning anymore. He was spinning along with it.

"I see that you will have the greatest success in-"

Harry tilted, the stool slipped out from underneath him and he felt in the distance something hard hit his body. Just as the hat fell off his head, it shouted out to the hall:

"SLYTHERIN!"

* * *

Harry returned to awareness slowly. He was numb from head to toe, and it was as if he was floating. He opened his eyes to a world in black and white. He was in a bed, the covers dimpled in grey, next to a grew bed-side table, on which a grey glass of water and a flower vase sat. Grey curtains enclosed his space, and a grey stone ceiling arched overhead.

Harry sat up, ran his fingers down his sheets and felt nothing. He checked, saw he was wearing grey striped pajamas and swivelled out of the bed. He tried to stand, but it was like he stood on vapour. The absolute lack of sensation should have alarmed him, but his emotions were as grey and apathetic as the rest of his surroundings.

The curtains darkened as a shadow fell over them, and were drawn back to reveal Dumbledore in shades of grey. He waved his wand, and a ribbon shot out, twisting to form letters.

 _Hello Harry. I hope you're well rested._

Harry nodded. He felt alright, actually. He remembered the frightening pressure around him, pressing up against his second consciousness, squeezing him, the dense magic of the castle had been immense. Now, he could reach out all around him, unburdened, though unable to feel the tables and the curtains as he should.

 _Your senses are dulled, as I'm sure you've figured out. The potion lasts a quarter hour more before it wears off._

Dumbledore conjured up a chair, puffy grey cushions and a felted back. He took a seat and gestured for Harry to do the same.

 _I must apologise. When I handed you your letter, I realised that you had a unique condition. I suspected it lent you a different experience of the world as others know it. However, I didn't expect such a strong reaction to magic._

Dumbledore cleaned his half-moon glasses and returned them to their perch.

 _I have suspicions of what caused your mind to split, but never have I seen a case such as yours. Could you tell me, Harry, whether you've always had it so?_

Harry paused, then gave a short nod.

 _And it allows you to sense your surroundings, and magic when it is present?_

Harry nodded, then opened his mouth to mention the bugs.

 _And locate and possibly control smaller creatures around you?_

He closed his mouth. Another nod.

 _I see._

Dumbledore sighed and reached into his robes to pull out a book.

 _Read this._

Harry took it, watched his arms take the weight but not feeling it. He nearly dropped it when he held too loosely, and tightened his grip until his knuckled turned pale.

'Occlumency,' it read in an embossed, glossy grey. Beneath, in smaller font, 'Navigating the Rivers of the Mind.'

 _I will speak to Professor Snape about-_

Harry didn't let Dumbledore finish. He shot to his feet, shaking his head with a scowl.

 _-teaching you the basics._

No, Harry said, or tried to. He couldn't hear his words but his mouth and tongue moved. He looked around, trying to spot a familiar figure in the land of grey.

"Where's Sy? My snake?" He tried to ask. He knew he could still talk. It was only his hearing that had been lost.

 _Safe and sound. You should be proud to have such a loyal companion. Now please, Professor Snape is your head of house and potions professor. You will have to interact with him on some basis and he will be able to provide the basics of training in Occlumency._

Harry still shook his head, though less fiercely.

Dumbledore peered over his glasses at him, an air of disappointment. Harry didn't back down. The wizard rubbed the bridge of his nose and muttered something under his breath.

 _You can take a diluted version of the Anparethesis potion for now. The effect would not be as strong, allowing you to attend classes, but you will still feel the discomfort. Please peruse the book closely in the meantime. Perhaps you will become accustomed to the feel of magic without the use of Occlumency. It is a useful discipline, although many would not tackle it at such a young age._

Dumbledore stood, banished the chair and checked the time on a pocket watch.

 _The feast should just be finishing. You should join the other first year Slytherins in the dorms once the full strength Anparethesis fades. Madam Pomfrey will show you the way._

Dumbledore drew back the curtains, revealing a woman in a no-nonsense nurse's apron, arms crossed and staring dispassionately at the old wizard. They exchanged some words, with the woman - Madam Pomfrey most likely - gesturing at Harry.

Then whatever Dumbledore said won the nurse over and she begrudgingly stalked off to return with a glass bottle in her hands. She measured out a thimble full, gave it to Harry motioning for him to drink it.

He did so, careful not to drop or slosh it over himself. It tasted of nothing, as expected. The nurse tapped the back of her wrist, held up five fingers, mouthing the words.

Five minutes.

Harry nodded, and she put the potion back into her stores. He took the time to take in the… ward? Clinic? He was in one of many beds, lined in the middle of the hall. Arching windows lined both sides, though the sky outside was dark. A pair of double doors, heavy enough to withstand an invasion, was held open, and on the other side was Madam Pomfrey's office, separated from the rest of the room.

As he looked, colour bled into his surroundings. First it was the off-white of the curtains, the gleam of the glass on his bedside table. Then came the stronger colours, the deep brown of the doors and the red of Pomfrey's office. Sensation too, and the weight of gravity. The sheets were coarse, freshly laundered, and smelling faintly of lemon.

He could feel the magic again, buzzing around him, testing him. The sensation grew, but not to the degree that it had been. The potion worked to keep it at bay. He knew the world was duller, the sounds smaller, his fingers number.

Madam Pomfrey returned, her skin a pale cream, her glasses brown. "Are you ready?"

Harry nodded, slipped out of bed and landed on slightly cool stone. She handed him his robes, and pulled the curtains closed so he could change. Harry buttoned up, noting the new sigil over his left chest, the green snake twisted into a stylistic S.

So. Slytherin. He remembered that much, though he hadn't been conscious for his friends' sorting. Where had Neville and Susan and Kate and Ron gotten to? And Dean and Hermione? Harry tugged his shoes on, wondering if he'd see any familiar faces.

Madam Pomfrey led the way, heels clipping on the ground. Harry hurried to keep up. They passed torches, suits of armour, and more moving portraits, all buzzing with a faint aura of magic. It wasn't overwhelming now, but Harry could feel his blood thumping in his temples. Too long, even with the sense dulling potion, and he'd get a headache.

As they walked, windows disappeared, the stones became darker, seeming to hold better to shadows, and the air grew cool.

They stopped all of a sudden and Pomfrey turned to Harry.

"You're to take a cup full twice a day, ideally after breakfast and dinner." She held out a flask of the potion and a measuring cup. "Come back to the hospital wing if you notice any abnormal reactions. Spots on the back of your hands or difficulty swallowing. The supply is enough for two weeks, including today."

Harry slipped the potion into his pocket. "Thanks." He looked around. "Um? Where are we?"

Pomfrey's lips quirked up. "This is the entrance to the Slytherin dorms." She gestured to the wall. Harry squinted, not seeing anything. Then, pressing his hand to the bricks, found a specific area to be buzzing at a different frequency to the others. "The password is Salazar."

Harry drew his hand back as the wall folded away. With a soft grating, the stones shifted, bent themselves so that they formed into a stone archway. Two columns on either side were decorated with a pair of large serpents, one winding up and the other downwards.

Inside was all leather and emerald felt. Low leather couches divided the room into sections. A fire burned in one corner, and an entire wall was converted into a bookshelf, on which perched a macabre arrangement of skulls from all types of creatures. Candles provided lighting, and gave off a faint green tinge.

A handful of older students talked among themselves, though sideways glances showed their interest in Harry and Pomfrey. Harry didn't see any familiar faces.

Two stairways led down from the common room.

"Left for boys, right for girls. The first year rooms should be on the lowest floor." Madam Pomfrey looked at Harry sternly. "Do try to keep yourself out of the hospital wing, Mister Potter. I don't believe I've ever had a student visit before even the sorting feast."

She left, heels clicking away, and Harry took his first tentative steps into the Slytherin common room. Almost immediately, he was waved over by a group, their leader a lanky boy of about fifteen.

"Flint. Marcus Flint." Flint held out a hand, which Harry shook. The boy had a thin face, which settled into a faintly displeased expression naturally. "This here is Pucey and Higgs." Two of the boys nodded. "And this is Carrow." The girl crossed her arms and looked Harry up and down.

"Hi. I'm-"

"Potter, isn't it? Yes, we saw your sorting. Got a bit of a bump on your head, didn't you? It wasn't a good look for the house. Don't be repeating it."

Harry gulped, glancing at the four older years.

Then Flint grinned. "But you're a first year, so there's excusing that. Just uphold the Slytherin values and you'll not find trouble here. The other first years are in the dorms already. If I were you, I'd brush up on my potions before tomorrow's class. You don't want your head of house thinking you're an absolute idiot, eh?"

Harry was shooed off, and he made his way to the left staircase self-consciously, knowing he'd attracted more attention than he wanted with his fainting act.

He stepped into the lowest level and found the other first years clustered around a bed. Harry supposed it was his bed, since Sy was on it. She was hissing, though only in a mildly threatening manner that was closer to 'back out of my space or I'll be annoyed' than 'I'll bite if you so much as breathe.'

There were five other boys, one of whom was talking loudly.

"I would have bought a snake as well, if I knew they were allowed," the blonde boy said with a lift of his chin.

"Must be Dumbledore favouring Potter." A dark-skinned boy shrugged, sounding bored.

"Yeah. Probably didn't expect a Potter in Slytherin," the blonde said again. Another boy, heavier and broader in shoulders, grunted in agreement. "What do you think, Nott?"

Harry waited by the doorway, out of sight from all but one. A dark haired boy met Harry's eyes and supressed a smirk. "I think he probably deserves to be here," Nott said. "Though he really should come in."

Harry grinned as the other boys whipped around. The blonde had a bit of pink on his cheeks, but was quick to shoot out a greeting.

"Ahh, the late-comer finally arrives." He stood and brushed down his robes. "Draco Malfoy. This is Crabbe, Goyle."

Crabbe nodded, held out a hand. "Vincent."

Goyle stayed silent.

"I'm Theo," said Nott.

"And lucky last, Blaise Zabini, at your service." The dark-skinned boy, tie askew, spread his arms into a lazy bow.

They all stepped away from Harry's bed and Sy. He walked over, picked her up and returned her to his shoulders.

"I'm Harry. I hear you all know my surname."

Zabini chuckled. "Oh yes. The Potter in Slytherin. Was quite a surprise to everyone, though you seem quite familiar with snakes already."

Harry shrugged. "It is really that big a deal? Anyway, this is Sy. She doesn't bite unless you deserve to be bitten."

"Is she venomous?" Draco said. His previous jealousy seemed gone in the face of fascination. "I don't recognise her breed."

Harry opened his mouth, then hesitated. He hadn't thought Sy was venomous. She'd bitten him in the neck when he'd been scared stiff of Neville's deer, but he knew that some snakes could choose when to inject venom.

"Are you venomous, Sy?" he asked.

A collective breath was sucked in by the other boys. Sy flicked out her tongue, baring her fangs for show.

"No. I manage well enough without it."

Harry nodded. "She's not venomous," he said in English.

"Bloody hell. No wonder he's in Slytherin," Nott said with humour in his voice. "The hat wouldn't dare sort him anywhere else."

"A parselmouth!" Draco said. "My father would love to hear about this."

Harry rolled his eyes. Neville had said that it was a pretty rare skill, but Harry didn't think that much of it. Perhaps people were born able to talk to birds, or fish, or cats. It was just coincidence he was sorted into a house with a snake as a mascot.

A rap came at their door. An older Slytherin poked his head in. "Off to sleep, get into bed. You all need to be up at seven on the dot for breakfast. You don't want me coming down again."

And that was that. They all retreated to their own beds.

"Good to have you with us, Potter," Nott said to Harry as he drew his blinds.

A murmur of agreement followed those words and Harry nodded back. He climbed into bed, settling Sy in a nook he made from the sheets. A letter sat on his pillow, the writing a familiar scrawl.

Harry blinked. He hadn't expected Sirius to write so quickly. He opened it.

 _Mini-Marauder,_

 _Hope you're having a good time at Hogwarts. Just got word back from your relatives. They're not very friendly folk, are they? Wrote several times they were not to be contacted by owl ever again. How they expect to receive news otherwise, I don't know. At least they had some information, sparse and useless as it was. We still don't know who brought you to the Dursleys. They say they found you on the table one morning, with only your blanket. Petunia said she only knew you were her nephew from the lettering. Apparently you woke them up with your crying. Going by the timing and the date, it would've been exactly when Voldemort went to your home. I don't know what to make of this. Forgive me for being blunt, but Voldemort's not the type to let babies slip out of his hand like that. Do you remember anything at all?_

 _Write back in any case. Don't forget the package!_

 _Sirius, your dogfather._

Harry quirked a grin, which fell into a confused frown. The Dursleys didn't know anything either? He was out of options. Short of asking Voldemort himself what had happened - Harry snorted at the thought - he didn't know where else he could turn. The thoughts tumbling through his head, Harry grabbed the package Sirius handed him when he left.

It had been something of his fathers. Harry held the parcel with a touch of reverence and carefully peeled back the wrapping paper.

Inside, soft and smelling slightly of mothballs, was a cloak. Harry ran his fingers through the material, and his eyes widened as it nearly zapped him with the magic it held. With a slack jaw, Harry held it up, the cloak disappearing as he lifted it from his bed.

Sy perked up. "That is a strange garment," she said. "Like still water."

Harry nodded. With a flourish, he swung the cloak around his shoulders.

"Can you see me?"

"Strange," Sy said again. "You are there but not there. All but your head is gone."

Harry looked down, saw the bed through his body, beneath him. "This is amazing," he said. "My dad must have gone wild with this thing."

He flipped up the hood, and saw that the inside was see-through. He'd be totally invisible while still being able to see outside.

"Wicked."

He took the cloak off, folded it neatly and tucked it under his pillow. However much he was tempted to test it out, he'd had too much excitement for one day. With a yawn, a small pat on Sy's head, Harry let himself drift off to sleep.

* * *

 **AN: Okay, so I'm going with the idea that the Hat is imbued with some ability to tell broadly how a student's assets will fit in with the house's culture. For Harry, his parseltongue plays a big role, as well as his ambition. I'm thinking that most students arriving at Hogwarts would probably want to do well, pass the tests, and make friends. Harry wants to tackle the mystery of his death and become stronger in order to protect himself and Sy. He's also from an older family, pure-blood (sorta), and without Ron's interference, had no real preferences at the time. Ehh, so he's not particularly cunning, but which eleven year old is? Don't say Draco because that boy's as forward as a mallet in your face.**

 **Note on Harry's parseltongue. In canon, it was because he was Voldemort's horcrux. Here, he's just inherited it from some ancestor who had the ability. Not Salazar Slytherin, but someone like Phillipus von Hohenheim. Yup, I looked it up on the wiki. So Harry's just kind of lucky there, in case anyone was wondering.**

 **Anyway, this chapter sure dragged out. Managed to pack a few things in as well. Leave a review if you enjoyed!**

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **L. Thatcher.**


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